


Impulse Control

by Sketched



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Burn, TW csa mention, altered sole survivor backstory, i change around a lot of stuff so if canon bending annoys you beware, it's mostly minor but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 40,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketched/pseuds/Sketched
Summary: The tale of a mercenary with a bitter past and a Paladin with one truly unknown to even himself.A lust-filled hiccup turns their friendship into something more complex and cold.//AS OF 12/18/18 THIS SERIES IS CONCLUDED, BUT THROUGH A META POST.





	1. First Impressions

_I_

 

               Danse didn’t really know how to truly describe him when they met.

He followed orders, yes, but with a hint of bitterness. There was a wild streak in that man, one that was evident in every subtle movement of his hands or eyes.

Gray shifted in his sleep, just slightly. Danse’s eyes wandered to him, instead of out the crumbling window of the house they’d taken temporary refuge in. He had elected to sleep on the Paladin’s right instead of on the other side of the room. As the clouds broke and moonlight shone into the room Danse noticed something. Gray’s hair, for once down, lay over half his face. Danse gently brushed it to the side with an index finger as the clouds reclaimed the light.

Gray’s eye opened slightly and a soft grin graced his features. The smile went unnoticed in the dark. “Is it my turn already, boy scout?”

“N-no.” Danse said, quickly placing his hand back on his own thigh.

Gray smirked slightly. “Is it cold?”

Danse blushed, scowled, and thanked the darkness that surrounded them for hiding it from his companion. “You should go to sleep. You haven’t been getting much lately.”

Gray breathed a soft laugh that deepened the color of Danse’s face. “Alright, alright. I’ll try, for you.”

Danse stared at the floor, willing his blush away. His eyes went back to the night vision scope in his hands, he surveyed the surrounding area for a bit before looking Gray over once soft snoring hit his ears.

A twig snapped outside and Danse snapped the scope back into place on a hunting rifle at lightning speed before looking out the window yet again. They had chosen the most fortified building and barricaded the door with a bureau.

He saw nothing, and migrated to the only other window of the room.

A one-armed feral ghoul limped across the road, heading away from them. A suppressed shot to the head dispatched it easily.

Danse’s footfalls, despite how lightly he had tried to tread, had awoken Gray, of whom simply said, “Give it.” The moment Danse sat back down next to him.

“You still need to sleep.” He argued.

“Yeah? You do too.” Gray said, sitting up.

Danse’s hand met his chest and he roughly pushed him back onto his side. “You’re going to sleep, soldier.”

“Dan— “That’s an order.” The paladin interrupted.

Gray bit his tongue for a moment before groaning and making himself comfortable on the floor.

“Superiority complex.” He whispered bitterly.

“If you hate taking orders so much then why are you with The Brotherhood?” Danse replied sharply. The question had been nagging him for some time.

Gray huffed and nimbly found the collar of Danse's undershirt in the dark. Before the larger man could react, he roughly pulled him into a chaste kiss that only lasted a few seconds. His feelings remained unsaid, but had been heard.

Danse was silent. He had a very faint taste of Gray still in his mouth as the intriguing and invigorating man continued to keep his shirt collar in his fist. The sheer bluntness of him was a sharp contrast to the mess of invisible lines and red tape that was The Brotherhood. He tasted ash and bourbon and despite having not acted on impulse since becoming an Initiate, he grabbed Gray’s shoulders and pulled him into a deeper kiss.

Gray recovered from the surprise quickly and nipped his bottom lip while he pulled away. His hands migrated to Danse’s chest and abdomen, and swiftly straddled the Paladins lap. He elected to mar the flesh of the bigger man’s throat with his mouth.

Arousal flared in Danse’s gut and his hips bucked of their own accord. A dry laugh was muffled by his now wet jugular and he blushed fiercely. Gray’s teeth found a particularly sensitive spot and Danse groaned involuntarily. His face grew even hotter and he felt Gray’s fingers dip below the hem of his pants.

He suddenly tore Gray’s head from his neck. Gray let out a choked mewl of surprise and the Paladin quickly let go of his clothing. Light shone through the clouds and Grays mouth hung open slightly but his eyes were a whirl of more emotion than Danse had ever seen him display.

A trail of saliva gleamed in the fleeting moonlight and broke as Gray moved backward of his own accord and steeled himself.

Gray rolled over so his back was facing him, as if to end any conversation before it began.

Danse still tasted the other man and felt his heat fading on his neck and thighs. The impulsiveness of his own actions terrified him.


	2. Formalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray and Danse banter a bit.

_II_

 

               Gray awoke with dew in his hair. He looked around while his eyes adjusted to the light and he heard someone call his name.

A metal-clad hand collided with the side of his face and he swore. He sat up and rolled into a crouching position in one smooth motion, facing his attacker. He drew his weapon while his eyes properly focused.

“Knight, stand down!” Danse commanded sharply.

Gray holstered the laser rifle with a small sigh of bitter relief and an annoyed suit of power armor began lecturing him about assessing threats before responding.

“You could’ve caused unnecessary damage to Brotherhood property.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have woken me up by hitting me.” He retorted.

“You passed out while I was administering medical treatment, I was making sure you were still alive.” Danse explained.

He was right, Gray was sitting next to the guard rail of a highway they’d traveled on many times before, but surrounded by a large bloodstain. He noticed his reflection in a small area where it had pooled.

“You didn’t have to do it hard enough to leave a mark.” He grumbled.

“At least that proves that _some_ blood is getting to your brain.” Danse replied hotly.

Gray snorted. “Nice one. Seems I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

Danse blushed beneath his helmet. “Do not patronize yourself.”

Gray smirked and got up, brushing some dried blood off of his pants. He was thankful that the Brotherhood garb he’d been given was dark in color and didn’t stain easily. The recently-healed flesh that accounted for half of his neck was tender and he winced when the air collided with it.

“Hey Da—Paladin Danse?” Gray caught his mistake before Danse could remind him. The Paladin had become stricter with their interactions since their “incident”.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Do you still have the bandana you used to cover up back at the Prydwen?” Gray replied.

“Yes, why?” Danse said. He had been lucky that nobody questioned the additional attire.

“Neck’s a bit wind sore.” Gray explained.

Danse sighed to himself. He removed his helmet and the red piece of fabric from his throat swiftly, barely giving Gray a chance to see his faded handiwork before his helmet returned to its usual place.

To Gray, those two seconds were enough to rival the satisfaction of relieving his own neck from the elements. He held the smallest spark of pride that a couple minutes from him lasted about a week for Danse. “Who are you hiding those from all the way out here?” He asked, confident that he knew the answer.

“Focus on the task at hand, Knight.” Danse replied.

Gray rolled his eyes and smirked.

 


	3. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a chat.

_III_

 

               Danse shot up from the ground, grasping at the air and shouting.

Gray was awoken suddenly and swore loudly as the Paladin looked around, bleary-eyed, and yelled something about an ambush.

Danse didn’t respond to his true surroundings until Gray was on top of him, shaking his shoulders and yelling both his name and pleas to calm down.

He roughly pushed the smaller man off without a word and pulled himself back onto the worn mattress behind him. The sun was breaking over the horizon and Gray saw Danse begin to shake violently.

Gray rose to his feet after recovering himself, and stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

Danse was still breathing heavily but his shivering had lessened dramatically. He was drenched in sweat and he pushed his hair off of his forehead with a shaky sigh. “I am fine.”

Gray knew they had just alerted every wasteland inhabitant within a mile and despite the boarded-up windows of their hideout he got the itch to move. He swiftly finger combed his hair into a small bun and went to work on getting the Paladin something to eat.

He had experience with the situation he found himself in. He let Danse gather himself and simply handed him a Mutfruit and a bottle of purified water while he checked their weapons and readied their bags.

“Knight…” Danse said after a long silence.

Gray turned on his heels and holstered his weapon out of habit.

“I am going to wash in the pond. Plan to head out around 0800.” He said.

Gray didn’t expect him to address their rude awakening. He hadn’t so much as mentioned their kiss, either.

               The sound of Danse’s footfalls was grating Gray’s nerves. He was acting as mechanical and cold as his suit, and it infuriated him. He knew Danse had emotions. He _knew_ he had some sort of feelings for him, that or The Brotherhood had him so touch-starved that he cared for a solid three minutes.

It was just one mission after the next, one more part to recover and one more place to clear out, all with this tyrant in front of him. At least for once they were doing some work for the Commonwealth's inhabitants to improve relations.

He lit a cigarette, much to Danse’s silent disapproval, and attempted to imitate the man’s mastery of ignorance.

He wondered what had him so guarded. They had the same orders, and none of  the instructions or perimeters barred them from dating. Maybe he was just a carbon copy Rhys, too engrossed in the Brotherhood's goal to focus on anything else.

“Remember when that scribe said we should work on knowing each other better?” He asked.

“Yes.” Danse replied. Said scribe had been tasked to assess their compatibility, and to his equal contempt and displeasure, she had said they were perfect for each other. She recommended that they should get more in touch, as it had been proven that soldiers that could predict the other’s movements worked more strategically on the battlefield. Her most stressed advice was that Danse treated Gray as an equal.

“So, what’s your favorite color?” Gray asked, not really expecting an answer. He was asking some questions he remembered from a collection of conversation-starters the scribe gave them.  

“Red.” Danse replied, after a bit of silence. “Yours?”

Gray shrugged, even though the gesture went unseen by his partner. “Light blue, I guess.”

What’s your favorite season?” Danse asked. He was referencing the same list.

“Winter.” Gray replied.

“I’m partial to Spring.” Danse said. “What’s your opinion on chems?”

This question was not part of the list.

A stick cracked somewhere in the distance, diverting their attention completely. The conversation ended as they readied themselves to engage.


	4. Picket Fences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fighting the feelings.

_IV_

 

               Danse found the Red Rocket truck stop relaxing. A power armor stand, radio, and a cabinet full of parts and tools; all the makings of a calming afternoon. Tensions between them were eased here, Gray read books, cooked, or built things, and Danse worked on his weapons, power armor, or muscle mass. They had their interests and kept to themselves, despite close proximity.

It had been about a month since the incident.  Danse’s neck had long healed, but a certain clacking on the ground made his skin prickle.

Gray leaned against the doorframe and stared into the garage. Danse looked up from his work. “Yes, Knight?”

“I’m going on a perimeter sweep.” Gray said.

“Very funny.” Danse scoffed. “Go back to bed, I’ll do it.”

Gray readjusted the crutches under his armpits. “I got it.”

“The whole reason you’re injured is because you pushed a bone mend too far too fast. I’m not letting you further the damage.” Danse argued, wiping his hands on a rag.

Gray knew he was right, if he had told him two days ago and rested instead of going on another eradication mission his bone wouldn’t have rebroken mid-mend. That kind of injury required a few days rest on top of allowing the bone to heal itself. “Well then can you try to find me some aluminum and a couple fuses? The generator is acting up again.”

“I’m on it.” Danse said. He was itching to use his power armor anyway.

Gray hobbled over to the glass-less windows and sat down as the garage door closed.

It was a humid day, hotter than anything they’d experienced during the winter. Spring was fighting for control, attempting to breathe the tiniest bit of life into the Commonwealth.

He gazed upon the malnourished and rad-stripped blades of grass struggling to grow through cracks in the asphalt. Tiny Hubflower bushes had begun to sprout near the sign that once advertised gas prices, a dewy rain smell wafted through the air, and yet the sun still beat down upon them like the war had been won.

               Danse pulled off his helmet and sweat-slicked hair fell onto his forehead. He sighed in relief and removed himself from the rest of the robotic shell, leaving the inside open. He doused it with some buckets of water leftover from another cleaning, and poured what remained over his head after removing a few things from his pockets. He stood there for a moment, content with his surroundings.

Gray was sitting at the counter, a magazine splayed before him. His brow was furrowed and the glasses he wore occasionally had slid halfway down his nose. He didn’t seem to notice Danse until the Paladin put his requested items next to his forearm.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Gray asked, looking up and adjusting his specs.

“Nothing but a few mongrel tracks.” Danse replied, leaning against the wall. He caught the header of the article Gray had been concentrating on, ‘ _How to Breathe some Life into the Bedroom’_.  “What are you reading?” He asked, slightly confused.

Gray closed the magazine and held up the cover. “Picket Fences, but it’s an interior design issue focusing on apartments.”

“Ah…” Danse replied. He had assumed something lewd. Danse’s subconscious hadn’t gotten over their physical altercation. Many things reminded him of that night.

His dreams were plagued by what could’ve been, despite his waking mind’s reservations.


	5. Sweet-Talked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse doesn't sleep well.

_V_

 

               Danse sat in The Third Rail, unsure of what to do with himself. Civilians talked and laughed around him, but he was seriously considering returning to the Hotel Rexford and turning in for the night. The cigarette smoke, muddy lighting, and rotgut beer did nothing to ease his reservations. Truly, the only reason he came was for the music.

Goodneighbor was far from his favorite town, but the Silver Shroud radio signal had led them to a ghoul not even he could resist helping.

He sighed and polished off a second shot of whiskey.

               Familiar hands rested on Gray’s clothed hips as he opened a bottle of vodka.

“I missed you, yknow. You don’t visit as much anymore.” Hancock said sweetly.

“I doubt the boys in the blimp would approve of our… whatever this is.” Gray replied, coyly pressing his ass below the ghoul’s navel.

“ _Close_ friendship.” Hancock replied with a smirk. Their flings started out of a few choice words and a toast to Bobby’s manipulative abilities, followed by downing the rest of the bottle and learning a fair bit about one another.

It was the only time in Gray’s life he simply hopped into bed with someone, but even what was an implied one-night stand turned into a recurring affair.

Gray chuckled and handed his compatriot a filled shot glass out of tradition.

They drank in unison and their glasses were tossed back onto the counter as Gray felt eagerness rise in his partner.

He sighed happily as the mayor’s hands slid around his hips. A vodka-soaked kiss graced the back of his neck and he leaned into the other man as a low growl rumbled in his throat.

               Danse’s fingers were thinly dusted with gunpowder. A tiny screwdriver was working at a stubborn screw on Gray’s sniper rifle.

The frustration of the slipping flathead mingled with the mixed feelings Danse had about his partner’s activities.

He had been asked by Whitechapel Charlie what brought him to town while in the bar.

_“I’m traveling alongside Gray Apollon.”_

_“Ah… I see he’s been sweet-talked back into the mayor’s bed.”_

_“What?”_

The robot’s eyes had focused a bit before he swiftly busied himself with anything but clarifying himself, but Danse had heard enough. He’d stormed out of the club and gone back to the room to begin distracting himself.

The screwdriver slipped as he thought, and he narrowly missed his hand. Instead a small mark was gouged into the desk. He swore and wiped his clammy palm on his jacket.

Gray truly confounded him yet again. He had turned down so many bar flirts and free drinks, even after Danse expressed his objections to a relationship between them. Not once in their months together had he asked Danse to stay in a separate hotel room, or told him to leave him alone for a night to pursue someone.

He found his head swirling with emotions, one particularly being jealousy. _A ghoul_. Even a ghoul could see that Gray was a catch, knew enough to keep him coming back for more. Anger welled in his gut.

Maybe he should break his way into the old state house and…

The screw finally budged and with it Danse’s nerve faded. He sighed and shook the thoughts from his head.

               Warmth between his legs had lit a fire in Gray’s abdomen and threatened to consume him further with every passing second. He moaned through his teeth and his partner’s hand slowly crept further up his side, working its way under the casual underclothes he’d donned for the occasion.

The subtle scent of purified Mutfruit oil reminded him of many other nights spent on that same couch, holding in or muffling the noises that would soon be pulled from his throat.

A familiar mouth slowly receded and cool air replaced it. He rolled his hips impatiently and a sudden intrusion surprised him.

His body jerked and his breath hitched. Moonlight glinted off of Hancock’s irises as their eyes met.

The ghoul’s fingers moved slowly as he repositioned himself. Neither of them had fully undressed, and he undid his belt with his free hand. Gray’s thighs replaced worn fabric as he removed his own remaining clothing.

There was a moment like this in every encounter they had. As the formalities came to an end and the clothes came off, there was a moment where eyes followed curves of muscle and gouges in flesh. A silent inspection of one another.

Gray remembered the hunger in Danse’s eyes. There had been no once-over from him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar pressure. His back arched slightly as his lover groaned and forced himself to move slowly. Giving Gray time to adjust was something that Hancock always did, it was simple etiquette in his mind.

It was one thing Gray always appreciated and never expected, he could see the way the ghoul’s muscles tensed and he silently thanked him every single time.

After a minute that felt like hours, Gray gently pushed himself against the mayor’s thighs and bit his lip excitedly.

                        Sleep wasn’t coming to Danse that night.

The hotel was quiet. The sniper rifle sat, painstakingly cleaned, on the desk and Danse found himself not regretting the kindness.

He had rejected Gray’s advances. He had brought his hopes to the top and then shattered them due to his own discomfort. He hid Gray’s marks, refused to embrace the idea of trying again, yet he found himself in an odd sort of personal hell, waiting for his companion to return.

His boots fell on the floor rhythmically. His hands pushed through his hair and he chewed on the inside of his lip.

He stared at the door handle. He imagined walking out that door and telling Gray everything.

But at the same time, did he even want to feel like that about him? Was he just latching onto him for ease? Did he really want him, or did _he_ just need to feel wanted? Why did he feel betrayed, when he was the one who expressed disinterest?

Doubts clogged his mind and he shifted his eyes to the cracks in the boarded-up window.

                        Gray moaned loudly and his blunt nails raked against marred shoulder blades.

Hancock bit into his collarbone and pushed deeper. A sense of pride swelled in his chest as one of the most revered mercenaries in the Commonwealth unraveled beneath him yet again.

Did his lover’s new Brotherhood follower know of the things he’d done? The things he’d recounted in pillow talk or over a nearly untouched bottle on the nights where they got too wrapped up in talking to do anything but sleep in a tangle of limbs as if they were a real couple.

It was a silent fear, what was held around Gray. He killed Bobby the minute she crossed him, took out hordes of gunners for a fellow merc, built houses for poor settlers and killed for caps in the same day.

Hancock’s hands tightened around Gray’s shoulders and he pulled him impossibly closer. They both cursed and Gray pleaded for him to pick up his pace.

Hancock smirked and licked his partner’s neck as his thrusts became shallower and slower.

Gray whined and grabbed the hands that held him in place, attempting to keep the trend in his favor.

A word was growled hotly in his ear; “ _Beg._ ”

                        The laser rifle he’d given Gray was strapped to the side of the man’s bag. It was used frequently, a gift that was never parted with.

Danse had turned the lights off and was waiting for sleep under a blanket he’d shared with Gray in some bombed out building many times before. He missed the slight warmth that the Knight brought, whether it be flush against his back, lying next to him while he kept watch, or vice versa.

He simply missed the company. It was a brotherly love, if a love at all. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Gray was just a constant in his life. He had simply gotten used to him and now missed his presence. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was with a ghoul for the night, or anyone for that matter.

He told himself that as he shut his eyes to wait for sleep to come.

                        An erratic pace followed by a rough bark of “ _Where?_ ” brought Gray back from the foggy haze of post-orgasm. He shrugged weakly and his partner cried out as a new warmth ran across his stomach.

They were both shaking slightly, Hancock sat back on his knees and stared at Gray’s familiar sly grin. Their skin was slicked with sweat, among other things, and he got up to find some sort of cloth after fully catching his breath and returning to a functional state.

Gray’s eyes shifted to the ceiling and he counted the cracks in the paint, as he always had. He deftly caught the old dishrag and began lazily wiping himself off.

“You gonna stay here or go back to him?” Hancock asked.

Gray put some thought into his answer. “I’ll stay.”


	6. Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duty or Dishonor with some personal admissions.

_VI_

 

               If there was one thing Gray liked, it was a sunrise.

He stood there, eyes glued upward, as the shallow water around him mimicked the pinks and blues put on by the heavens. His hands slowed as he cleaned himself.

Danse stared at his companion’s bruised upper body with the same reverence.

Though their nude visages were no secret to one another, Danse found it harder to look at him than usual. Fleeting glances were fewer and when he did catch a glimpse of a faded love bite it stung.

Gray dunked his head below water for a few seconds and resurfaced to feel eyes on his back. The sunrise shifted to the back of his mind and he squeezed some water out of his hair while walking the 10 or so feet back to shore.

His uniform was skillfully slipped on and combat armor was strapped into place with practiced swiftness.

Danse felt the same anxious burn as his partner, he too looked around as they retreated back to the protected perimeter of Boston Airport.

They spoke even less after what happened to Kent Connolly.

_It was Danse who shot first. He had been too heated, wound too tight after the previous few nights' lack of sleep. He put a bullet in Sinjin before Gray could respond to his third round of verbal gymnastics._

_Though it was Avery who splattered Kent’s prized memories onto the cold hospital floor and Sinjin’s body, Gray’s gut dropped as if he’d done it himself._

Danse felt the shift in the air as they neared the depot. Gray was always coarse with people he didn’t know very well. Lately, Danse had been receiving hints of the same treatment. Though it wasn’t much different from the way _he_ talked to Gray, it still stung.

Truly, who was to blame? The situation would never have happened if Gray kept Kent on the fictional path, but if Danse hadn’t been so trigger-happy maybe The Silver Shroud could talk his friend out of trouble, as he had many times before with others.

Danse was pulled from his thoughts as Gavil spat at his companion about accusations.

“Watch your tone, Sergeant.” He said sternly.

Gray glanced at him, his expression betrayed a hint of surprise and appreciation for a moment.

“Sir.” Gavil replied, his tone softening. “Our newest additions are Initiate Clarke and Knight Lucia, talk to them. Everyone else is not to be disturbed.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Ad victoriam.” Gray said calmly.

A distracted-looking young woman was sorting a box of scrap, but looked up apprehensively when Gray asked her about the missing supplies. “I'm not sure I can be of much help, but... what do you want to know?” She said with a slight sigh.

                           Knight Ryland’s bloodstained holotag hung loosely from Gray’s fingers. He pocketed it, and swore under his breath. Ryland hadn’t been missing for long, but at least the newly budding mystery had been solved.

“What is Clarke doing here?” Danse asked quietly, almost to himself.

“I think I have a pretty good guess.” Gray mumbled back.

Idle chatting wasn’t something they’d participated in for some time, even in the weeks before Kent. Usually there were very short exchanges like this, but Danse decided to pursue it. “What is it?”

“Lucia mentioned him breaking down after the battle for the airport, a battle waged against feral ghouls. This place is infested with them, and it doesn’t seem like he’s playing exterminator.” Gray said.

Danse understood what he was getting at. “Why would anyone have an attachment to ferals?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, but I’ve seen this sort of thing before.” Gray sighed.

They continued on in silence for a bit.

“Gray… I have something important to tell you.” Danse said finally.

His companion turned to face him and lowered his weapon. He didn’t seem different than when they first met, and that wasn’t something Danse felt he could handle for much longer. He’d been calculated and reserved, but as they grew closer he loosened up and even shared an intimate wish with the Paladin one night in Fairline Hill. They’d lived together in a gas station for a week while Danse met whatever needs his temporarily crippled partner had, slept there while waiting for orders via radio countless nights. He knew so much, and yet so little, about him. He had no clue what his past contained, but knew he had a pale birthmark on his left thigh that was shaped like a silt bean. That he had a fascination with mechanics, that his favorite color was light orange, that he, at least at one point, wanted an intimate relationship between them.

“I think I’ve been too hard on you at times, and I just wanted to apologize.” As he spoke, Gray’s features softened. “My sponsor was rough in his teaching, but it shaped me into the man I am today. I owe him for the things he instilled in me, and when he died it was like a kick to the stomach. But… I don’t think you really need any tough love to be a good man. You have done some questionable and unexpected things, but I cannot truly fault you for some of those actions. I want us to be equals, and I want you to know that if what I’ve done is unforgivable, then I will not hold it against you if you decide that The Brotherhood of Steel isn’t a good fit anymore.” He said, almost choking on those last few words.

Gray smiled softly. “It means a lot to me that you’d say that.”

It was tender, the Danse standing before Gray was reminiscent of the one he’d marred with his teeth. The Danse that acted out of impulse instead of someone else’s orders or whatever overdrawn thought processes he put himself through before every move.

Danse felt a need to say more, but Clarke’s voice echoed through the hallways so quietly that it could be missed if the silence between them had been lighter. “ _There, that’s it. Not bad, is it?”_

Gray tensed and his weapon was drawn back up to his chest. Danse’s metal-clad hands tightened around Ashmaker, the minigun Gray had given him what felt like years before. They shared one last second of eye contact before Gray turned and began jogging toward the source of the noise.

They came upon some tin can chimes and Gray peeked around the corner, careful not to disturb them. A hand left his gun to signal “ _one_ ” and “ _stop_ ” before he bent down a bit and almost silently made his way into the room.

Clarke was facing a glass-less window, and gently dropping chunks of Cram in front of gurgling feral ghouls. “Easy now. Hang on.” He said, turning back to get another can.

His blood froze as he came face-to-face with Knight Gray.

“I-I was just… uh…” He stuttered.

“Out with it.” Gray said forcefully.

Clark tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “It’s a long story.”

“If you don’t feel like telling it than maybe I’ll get to tell the story of how you tried to shoot me in the head once I caught you.” Gray said calmly.

Clarke sighed. “I've been stealing supplies bringing them down here at night to feed the ghouls. It's been working. So far. Nobody even questioned me when I took the crates out of the terminal.”

“Why would you feed ferals?” Gray asked. A bit of emotion wormed its way into his statement.

“After the battle, I... I needed some time to think. I found this place. And the ghouls. What could I do? Report it, and they'd all be killed. Ignore them, and they'd attack the base. I thought, if I brought them food, maybe they'd just stay down here. There wouldn't have to be any more killing.” He explained. His fingers began to nervously toy with the fabric of his uniform.

“Why does it matter if they live or die? They’re no different than mongrels, I bet they’d rip you to shreds if you gave them the chance.” Gray asked.

Danse was listening intently to the way Gray spoke. He noticed that the intimidating monotone had been dropped altogether, and was replaced with something more curious.

Clarke’s hands balled into loose fists. “I had a friend who was a ghoul, once. As human as you or me. But the Brotherhood... the Brotherhood says ghouls are abominations. They all deserve to die. Would you kill him, too? Just because of who he is?”

“Was he feral?” Gray replied.

“What does it matter?” Clarke said indignantly.

Gray holstered his weapon and in a matter of seconds his newly freed hands wrapped around Clarke’s throat and he pushed his upper body out of the window until the only thing keeping the Initiate from falling were the rough fingers restricting some of his breathing, and the knee pinning his lower body to the windowsill. He didn’t even kick, for fear of being dropped.

“It’s fuckers like you that make it hard for ghouls. You think there’s no difference?” Gray growled, his grip tightening. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me that ferals are _anything_ like conscious ghouls!” He yelled.

Clarke let out a choked scream and tried to pry away Gray’s hands. The ferals below him futilely reached upward.

The can chimes rattled loudly and a familiar hand gripped Gray’s right elbow and jerked the two of them backward. “Knight! Let him go, _now!”_

Gray’s hands left Clarke’s throat as the two men hit the cement floor. He looked up at Danse and the Paladin offered him a hand. After a moment of consideration, he took it and was pulled to his feet.

Clarke held his own neck defensively as he gasped for air on the ground.

Gray drew his weapon, but held it at his side and took a few steps backward. This awarded him a curt nod from Danse.

“Initiate.” Danse said, gently kicking Clarke in the side to get his attention.

Clarke took a few deep breaths and rolled into a sitting position.

“You need to turn yourself in.” Danse said calmly.

Clarke coughed and spat onto the floor behind him. His eyes shifted between the two men before him a few times before he replied. “...I suppose so. The Captain will never understand, but... it's the honorable thing to do. He might respect that, at least.” He said worriedly.

Danse did not offer him a hand and he shakily rose to his feet. “W-what are you going to do with them?” He rasped, looking back at the ferals.

“We’re going to put them out of their misery. Do you have a problem with that, Initiate?” Danse said.

Clarke’s eyes widened and his jaw tensed. He shook his head and tossed Gray a keycard before pointing to the elevator and stalking back down the hallway through the can chimes. Holding his tongue was obviously his top priority.

Danse turned back to Gray. “Were you going to drop him?” He asked, once the Initiate was out of earshot.

Gray shrugged. “I like to think I wouldn’t have.”

                                         “So, let me get this straight, Initiate Clarke.” Kells said, pacing in front of the terrified man. “You decided to steal from The Brotherhood, to feed feral ghouls?”

Clarke nodded. “I confess.”

“Did he give you boys any trouble?” The Captain asked, his eyes locked on the forming bruises around Clarke’s throat.

“Nothing that couldn’t be dealt with without too much injury.” Danse replied.

Gray leaned against the doorway to the small, out-of-the-way room used for interrogations. He held his tongue, as he and Danse agreed to let the Paladin do the talking.

Kells’ eyes shifted to Gray, of whom held steady eye contact until he turned back to the task at hand.

“You’re aware that Elder Maxson has been alerted to your betrayal, yes?” Kells asked.

Clarke remained stone-faced. “What has he said?”

“Lockup at Cambridge.” The Captian replied

Clarke’s eyes fell to the floor and he sighed.

Kells gently gripped his shoulder and guided him to his feet. The handcuffs that kept his wrists behind his back rattled together as he fidgeted against them. “Take him.” Kells instructed.

As they walked out onto the deck, Clarke kept rubbing against walls subtly and shifting his arms. Though Danse’s hands were free due to a specially made strap that allowed for his minigun to be carried on his back and his helmet to be clipped to the hip opposite his laser rifle, Gray was the one with a death grip on Clarke’s forearm.

Gray lit a cigarette with his free hand and looked over their charge while Danse delivered their orders to a recently-docked pilot. They were waiting by the steps while Danse dealt with formalities.

Clarke shifted yet again and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Got an itch?” Gray asked, his voice tight from holding smoke in his lungs.

Clarke nodded. “Left shoulder blade.”

Gray itched it with a bit more force than necessary, his nails could be easily felt due to the fact that he’d removed the fingers from the gloves of his uniform.

“Thank you.” Clarke sighed.

Gray blew smoke off the side of the Prydwen, almost ignoring his acknowledgement of the kindness. As someone who’d been restrained with an itch before, he found it to be simple courtesy.

Danse returned to them. “We’re waiting on the copilot to return from mess. Shouldn’t be too long now.” He fidgeted with his helmet.

“Alrighty.” Gray said. He moved backward and sat on the steps, pulling Clarke down with him. The Initiate didn't make a noise but was visibly surprised.

Danse cocked and eyebrow and Gray grinned. The Paladin rolled his eyes and sat down on Clarke’s free side.

Clarke stared at the deck intently. “Are they going to kill me?” He asked quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Gray took a long drag and Danse put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Truly, I cannot tell you one way or another, but I doubt it.” The Paladin said.

Gray’s thumb pressed a bit deeper into his bicep, as if to remind Clarke that running was not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect more chapters coming soon! They just have to go through some more editing.


	7. Skeletons in the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fort Hagen part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why chapter 6 was posted twice, I think it might've been a glitch, but I apologize anyway. Here's the real chapter 7:

_VII_

 

               Nick Valentine’s eyes lingered on the Brotherhood soldiers as they approached him through the open door. He rose to his feet and his hand hovered over his pistol. Ellie froze in place and almost dropped the file she was holding. They both knew about the Brotherhood’s policy on synths.

The combat-armored one walked in front, confidently yet slowly. He held up a hand to his companion and the power armor-clad soldier moved to stand in the corner of the room, away from the door.

“There’s no need to be so tense.” He said calmly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

Nick didn’t move.

“My name is Gray Apollon. That’s Paladin Danse. I need your help finding someone.” He said, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of a breast pocket. “You smoke?”

Nick nodded and held up a hand. Gray tossed the pack his way and he lit one.

“Is it Brotherhood business?” He asked. The pack went into _his_ pocket.

“Not specifically. I’m following a personal lead.” Gray replied, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The tension had lessened, and a slight bit of trust had been formed. The trust of mercs and hired guns; formed through small material offerings. He had no intentions of betraying it.

“Any names, Mister Apollon?” Nick asked.

“Conrad Kellogg.” Gray said.

Danse cocked an eyebrow beneath his helmet. This was a new name.

Nick paused. Then sighed, and held an open palm toward his assistant. She shuffled through some papers and handed him a file. Gray’s eyes lingered on his skeletal synth hand. “About two weeks ago someone else had a similar request.  Said he was holed up in Fort Hagen, told me when he came back to stock up for the fight. I haven’t heard from him since.”

Gray shook his head. “If I can, I’ll find him for you. Thank you, Valentine.”

“Call me Nick.” The synth said. “Here, let me program the coordinates into that Pip Boy.”

Gray tensed slightly, but relented. His Pip Boy was something that he’d cherished for a very long time, though at times it felt like blood money.

Nick bridged the gap between them, and quickly entered the coordinates. He stepped backwards swiftly, as if he was still unsure of his safety.

Gray thanked him again, and they were on their way.

               “This Conrad Kellogg, you have history with him?” Danse asked tentatively.

Gray’s fingers toyed with his breast pocket. It was then that he remembered that he’d forgotten to pick up a new pack of cigarettes. Smoking was never a real addiction for him, even the hardest chems had trouble sinking their hooks. Though, it was a creature comfort.

“Yes.” He said. He was suddenly aware of the scars on the right side of his face. There were three, the first was a small gash that interrupted his top lip, the second took the form of a decently sized gouge that ran from cheekbone to chin in a slight arc, and the third cut an angled path from his temple to above his pulse point. His short facial hair covered them to some extent, but they were obvious to anyone who took a few seconds to look.

“Kellogg runs with the Institute. Or at least he did back then, about a decade ago. The man liked bloodshed, liked to take junked synths on little trips. Gen 1s weren’t as organized as the Gen 3s, they just tore and harvested. He killed my family. Parents, little sister, even the damn dog. Spared me, turned me into a soldier, then threw me away four years later.” Gray spat.

Danse had many questions. The tension in the air pushed them to the back of his mind. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he took point through another already-breached door.

They’d encountered nothing but the skeletal remains of old synths and a freshly-boarded up wall.  They were reaching the end of the line, and the prospect of both something and nothing had the Paladin on edge.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the formerly silent halls of Fort Hagen. “ _Ho-lee shit. Never thought I’d see you again, though I’ve heard the rumors.”_

Gray froze. His breath hitched and a deep-set shiver wracked his body for a second. A certain set of memories rattled their long-silent chains. He steeled himself, as he’d learned to do many years before, and surged ahead of Danse before the Paladin could ask him if he was alright.

“ _Was that a flinch, scavver?”_

Gray did not give him the satisfaction of another, yet the same chill gripped him and it took all of his concentration to keep his stride in check.

He booted open the closed final door, and stood face-to-face with his oldest enemy.


	8. Fresh Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fort Hagen part II

_VIII_

 

               “Brotherhood of Steel, eh?” Kellogg said, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “You fill in the boy scout on our history, or just the parts that make you seem innocent?” He was favoring his right leg and a telltale vest of medical tape explained the way he held his side. Nick’s guy had put up one hell of a fight.

Gray barely heard Danse fall into place at his flank. “You know what I’m here for, then.”

Kellogg blew a smoke ring. “You tell him about how you got that Pip Boy?”

“Tell us how to get into the Institute.” Gray hissed through his teeth. Two Gen 1 synths, one missing an arm and the other a jaw, limped out of the shadows to stand at his opponent’s side.

Kellogg laughed and seemed to have no reaction to whatever pain it caused his obviously injured ribs. “You think you can just waltz into my house, and demand information that’ll get my neck sliced even faster? You think now that you’ve got some power-armored freak at your side and some more merc years on ya that you’re some sort of badass?” He asked rhetorically.

Danse spun up the minigun and shredded the two synths without so much as disturbing a hair on Kellogg. Neither of the other two men had a visible reaction.

“We can both leave here. Just give me what I need and I’ll leave you here to finish licking those wounds, old man.” Gray said.

“You know, I’ve missed seeing you beg after all these years.” Kellogg said. A suppressed fit of laughter danced in his eyes.

Gray shot him in the leg and closed the distance between them, his hand tightened around the pistol the grizzled merc had drawn in the few seconds beforehand. Kellogg grimaced as his wrist was broken and his pistol clattered against the cold floor. Righteous Authority was warm against Gray’s hip as he went in with his hands, not dissimilar to how he had attacked Clarke.

Danse would have assisted, but Gray had proved his hand-to-hand prowess time and time again.

“A bit quicker than before, but have  _other_  muscles held up with time?” Kellogg choked.

His head collided with the concrete floor and his vision flickered into blackness.

Gray felt for a pulse and then pulled an overturned chair to an upright position and posed Kellogg before attempting to find some sort of duct tape or rope.

Danse turned to watch the door and looked back only to make sure that the merc remained comatose. He knew when to speak and when to let Gray decompress before asking anything, but part of him already knew what memories had his partner riled up.

                                         Kellogg spat a molar onto the floor as he came to. “Really? Using my own tricks against me, eh?” He said with a grin. “You know the Institute hands out pain inhibitors like candy, torture isn’t your best bet here.”

Gray simply smiled. 

This, out of all things, phased Kellogg. Of the years he spent with Gray, the boy never smiled, especially not openly. Part of him had wondered if the kid even knew how. He was tied to a chair, but in the bathroom of a bunk outside of the control room. He assumed the boys had managed to break the toothpick of a defense he’d cobbled together to hide himself a bit. They were alone, Danse guarded the door and kept his ears open for anything unusual.

A manila folder was raised in Gray’s left hand. “Oh, I have what I want, Connie. Did a little digging while you were out, and found the Virgil folder. We both know that Pip Boy’s got a bit more wear and tear since the good ol’ waster raised hell in here.”

Gray was referring to the bullet-hole-riddled chunk of circuits that sat on Kellogg’s desk next to a second eviscerated Pip Boy. All the time in the world couldn’t make two dead birds sing, it seemed.

“Your last purpose, is to answer a simple question for me.” Gray said.

Kellogg looked up at him. He knew that his final bit of leverage was gone. There were no beatings now, no threats of leaving the kid alone in the wasteland, the emotional abuse had been outgrown. Wounds had healed and scars had faded.

“Why?” Gray asked.

Silence followed. Stockholm syndrome was something Kellogg had read about in some book a long time ago. Something he’d remembered the day the kid that looked almost exactly like Shaun turned up, successfully fending off a rifle-less synth with a kitchen knife. Something that he knew truly existed when a 15-year-old gave him his last Stimpack for his broken ribs, even if it meant that the kid’s face would be permanently scarred. But he did not admit any of this. He did not admit that Gray was simply a replacement for a replacement, something new to fill the hole widened by it's first quick fix being taken back by the Institute. “Because you had promise, scavver. You impressed me, and I was feeling generous. I regret it now, you damn whelp.” He spat.

Gray shot him in the head with his own pistol.

Danse opened the door as the chair tipped to one side and a body slumped onto the floor. “You okay, Knight?” He asked.

Gray simply forced a smile and holstered the gun.


	9. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys gear up to finish an old search.

_VIIII_

 

                        Maxson stared at Gray for some time before he responded.

The outsider had quite a bit of muscle on his side. Official-looking Institute documents, proof that an almost fabled mercenary had been dealt with, and plenty of brownie points from Captain Kells and the Elder himself. Not to mention the fact that Danse was backing him on his claim's validity.

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re killing me. You know that?”

Gray smiled.

“Since the synth aided The Brotherhood and has shown no ill will toward civilians, I will honor your request for him not to be disturbed. And as for the squadron for a mission into The Glowing Sea, I will firstly try to get some Knights out of the rotation. Other preparations for this will most likely take a bit of time. Armor needs inspection, Rad-X and RadAway need to be rationed alongside ordnance, and we’ll need to get a scribe tough enough to tag along to adjust our maps... I expect you boys to stick around the Prydwen and to get this done immediately when I get all this together.” Maxson said.

“Thank you Elder Maxson. Ad Victoriam.” Gray replied.

“Ad Victoriam, brother.” Danse added.

The Knight and Paladin walked in almost sync to the power armor stations as Maxson began to fill out paperwork. Gray in power armor was a rare sight, and one that Danse found comforting. He couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to travelling with a squadron again, especially when he was the highest-ranked officer.

“Interested in grabbing something to eat?” He asked, his eyes running up Danse's now visible body slyly.

Danse instinctively looked downward, and blushed slightly when he found himself staring at Gray’s hips instead of his face.

It had been some time since Danse removed his second skin for anything other than sleeping or keeping watch. The height difference between him and Gray was much smaller now, he only beat out the other man by an inch or so.

He adjusted his line of sight almost instantly and Gray snickered. “Already missing your heels, eh?”

“Let’s just get to mess before the pilots get it all.” Danse replied sourly.

                        The floor bunks of the Prydwen were a far cry from the privacy and security of sleeping at Red Rocket. Gray was jumpy, and found himself in the grips of an insomnia that had plagued him off-and-on for 10 years.

That was what drove him to gently knock at the door of Paladin Danse’s private bunk.

Luckily, 3 months together all hours of the day allowed for Danse to quickly grasp the situation, and he let Gray in without anything other than a greeting. He had worried silently that Gray would end up in that state. Nights at the Prydwen were few and far between for him, and had never before been made up of downtime. Gray liked privacy, he enjoyed the company of familiars and that was it.

The bunk wasn’t impressive, a single, large, bed with a nightstand and desk, complete with a dim lamp, a stack of papers, pencils, and a clean coffee cup. Nothing personal had been placed, save for some laser rifle parts hidden away in drawers.

“I’ll take the floor, toss me a pillow.” Gray said.

“I’m going to be up for a while longer. Paperwork and the sort.” Danse objected. “We’ll switch when the time comes.”  
Gray shrugged and made himself comfortable, tucked against the wall and facing the door. He fell into a deep sleep that, hours later, Danse found himself unable to pull him from.

It was simply rare to see. He only slept like that in his gas station home, and only after Danse had helped him fill the gaps of the glass-less windows with boards.

Times like these always left Danse unable to ignore the feelings he’d developed for his companion, whatever they may be. The questions of why he felt the way he did, and if he even should feel that way, plagued him. And he did something… impulsive.

Instead of waking Gray, he simply climbed into bed next to him and let the drowsiness paper-pushing always gave him take over.

                        A knock at the door startled Gray awake, and he noticed two things. One, he was comfortable, and two, there was a blanket-covered shape keeping him cornered. Danse softly snored and Gray tried to ignore the fact that he found it adorable.

“Hey.” He said, his voice rough and sleep-soaked. He shook Danse roughly and the Paladin groaned before opening his eyes in time to hear another round of knocking. “Someone’s here for you.”

Danse swore under his breath and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair to tame it a bit before rising fully and answering the door.

Gray subtly ducked under the disturbed blankets to save Danse the worry or possible explanation.

“Alright, I’ll meet with them at 0900 on the deck. Ad Victoriam.” Danse said.

Gray was more focused on trying not to enjoy the slight scent of his companion than their conversation, but a quick shutting of the door caught his attention.

“Did Maxson find us some squad mates?” He asked, shucking the blankets off and shuffling to the edge of the bed.

“He wants me to pitch to them, make sure they know what they’re getting into.” Danse replied with a yawn.

Gray didn’t draw attention to the fact that Danse elected to sleep next to him but he definitely noted the gesture, the same way the Paladin didn’t mention that Gray had hidden himself without being asked.

“Who’d we get?” Gray yawned.

“Knights Kidwell and Shad, and Senior Scribe Julien.” Danse said.

“Let’s go meet them then.” Gray replied with a grin, the sleep removed from his features.

                        “We will encounter the most irradiated and vicious things the Commonwealth has to offer. Not even the most jetted Raiders mess with the Glowing Sea, and all of us may die. But, it is our best lead to the whereabouts to the Institute.” Danse said. “We’re tracking down an alleged escaped scientist, and our searching will most likely begin at the Crater. Know that you will be asked to keep sharp, and you may go without sleep for some time... I suggest stocking up on Nuka-Cola.”

The soldiers remained stone-faced. Gray leaned against a railing, studying their possible squad mates. They stood before them on the deck shoulder-to-shoulder, the two Knights on either side of the Scribe.

“Identify yourselves if you wish to continue alongside us.” The Paladin added. "If not, just return to your duties. Nobody will think ill of you."

“Knight Talia Kidwell, specializing in field power armor repairs and explosives, sir!” The woman on the left said. Her face was smooth and carried no obvious marks, save for a small, flat, mole under her right eyebrow. She was a short-haired blonde, had dark eyes, a sun-kissed complexion, and a runners’ build. Though she seemed a bit young to hold any sort of specialties, part of Gray knew she was barreling toward a promotion.

“Knight Fredrick Shad, if you need extra muscle I’m your guy. I’m good with a Gatling laser and I’ll gladly lay down my life for the cause.”, Shad was indeed more muscular than his counterpart, although his tone was much more relaxed. His hair was long by Brotherhood standards, and framed his face in orange. He was unshaven, had a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose, and a burn scar marred the left side of his face under his cheekbone, slightly hidden by the facial hair. Gray immediately found him charming.

“Senior Scribe Winthrop Julien, I have plenty of experience with mapping and I’ll keep us from getting lost. I can also handle myself in combat, sir.” The scribe had dark skin, buzzcut hair, and a battered Pip Boy. Gray could assume from his posture that he was cocky, most likely recently promoted, and he had a feeling that he’d be butting heads with him in the future.

“I see you’re all still interested. Then, be ready to head out as soon as we get our rations. Keep your suits clean and make sure to check your gun straps.” Danse said. “Ad Victoriam!”

A cry of the Brotherhood creed echoed off the deck and Gray felt a slight swell in his chest.


	10. Blood Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse continues to deny his feelings, but not as strongly for a little while.

** ** _X_

 

               The sweet and sour feeling of fading Med-X in his veins was the first thing Gray noticed.

He tried to sit up, but a crushing pain in his chest caused his jaw to lock in a silent scream and his arms to give out completely. What remained of the chem fought to ebb the pain as Cade loomed over his bed.

“Good, you’re awake.” The physician said, pushing a fresh dose into his arm. “How do you feel?”

“How bad was it?” Gray replied dryly, ignoring the question.

“Three ribs fractured, and one hip dislocated on the left side, two large punctures through the left arm, one deep laceration through the carotid and general neck, heavy blood loss, and a slight concussion.” Cade replied flatly.

Gray noticed two thick scars on the mentioned limb. He moved it in all the directions he could think of as Cade dug through a drawer for some tape. His hair was down and he tested his fine motor skills by wrestling a strand of it from his tongue.

“Alright, here are your options.” Cade said, turning around. “You can stay here for an extra day while your ribs mend— “An _extra_ day?” Gray interrupted.

“ _Or_ , you can get taped up and get to being useful again.” Cade replied pointedly.

Gray noticed the dark circles under the doctor’s eyes and opted for the latter.

               Danse arrived at the clinic a few minutes after he was summoned. His eyes avoided the curtained bed against the wall as Gray limped to his side.

“Do you want help?” The paladin finally asked as the limp worsened a few feet down the hallway.

“I’m fine.” Gray said, his voice tight. “How long was I out?”

“Day and a half.” Danse replied.

“Did Shad…”

“He’s alive.”

Gray’s eyes stuck to the ground.

They had exited the Glowing Sea and hailed the Vertibird at Robotics Pioneer Park. It was then, as they scanned the horizon and allowed their muscles to relax, that the creature rushed them from behind a cabin. He remembered a few things after they came face-to-face, the sickly glow fading from his wounds, Danse throwing him over his shoulder power armor and all, feeling blood on his legs and knowing it wasn’t his, Kidman’s shaking hands pressing a cloth to his forehead.

“I think you need a break.” Danse said.

Gray turned to him to reply, but in that moment his leg gave out and his body was spared from the Prydwen’s cold floors by Danse’s reflexes alone. His arms were tangled with the Paladin as he was held for a few seconds. His ribs heaved quietly beneath fingers that were not his own. Gray froze as the strength returned to his leg and shakily pushed himself back upward after a moment. Concerned looks from other Brotherhood personnel bore into his flesh.

Gray hated how Danse looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered as he asked, “Are you okay?”. He hated how it made his heart speed up and his throat dry out. He hated how he could still feel so much for someone who had never reciprocated with something planned.

Gray forced a grin once his pace became more solid. “How about next time you don’t jinx my ability to walk?” He said jokingly.

“I didn’t mean a break to rest your leg. I meant a break from… all this.” Danse said, keeping a soft tone.

Gray knew he should feel surprised, but at that moment he simply nodded and allowed Danse to lead him to the bunk and help him into bed as a sudden drowsiness took over.

               Danse hadn’t slept that first night. He simply couldn’t. All he did was fill out papers and pace in front of the closed medical bay door.

Between being questioned by Maxson and Cade and taking care of Gray’s items, he hadn’t washed the blood from his body. Kidman was who brought it to his attention as he leaned on the wall next to where she sat. She pressured him into showering and going to bed.

Gray had looked… dead. He was pale as a ghost and his eyes were unfocused and glassy when they were open. Danse was sure he was gone, the Stimpacks weren’t knitting fast enough and his neck was halfway gone by that point.

Danse had broken down that night. He cried silently, but heavily, as old scars opened up and his presumed loss was all he could think about. He had played it safe, but the feeling was still there. What he was trying to protect himself from happened anyway, and all he had to show for it was disregard of his own feelings and that of the person they were for.

But a warm breath ghosted across the back of his neck. Body heat from another seeped into his skin through the sheet separating them. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Gray was there, next to him. And all the regret would fade back into restraint, but not immediately.

“Gray?” He asked after a few minutes, half-hoping there would be no answer.

A meek “Yeah?” sounded from the barely-moving lump next to him.

“I have something to tell you. Do you want to do this now or later?” He asked.

“Now.” Gray croaked. Gray was exhausted, but found himself somewhat awake then.

“I grew up alone in the Capital Wasteland. Spent most of my childhood picking through the ruins and selling scrap. When I was a bit older, and had a few caps to my name, I moved into Rivet City and opened a junk stand. While I was there, I met a guy named Cutler. We got along pretty well, watched each other's backs and kept each other out of trouble. When the Brotherhood came through on a recruiting run, we felt like it was the best way out of our nowhere lives, so we joined up.” He said, a bit of pride and pain in his voice.

“At least you had the ambition to list up with a cause. I can’t really picture you running anything but a squadron.” Gray replied with a sly smile.

Danse smirked despite the churning in his chest. “About a year after we were posted to the Prydwen, Cutler vanished on a scouting op.”

Gray’s smile faded, and he knew exactly where the story was going to head. It was dark in the room, almost suffocating.

“It took almost three weeks, but we tracked his team down to a Super Mutant hive. The mutant bastards used their FEV to change him into one of their own kind.” He said, steeling himself. “He wasn’t Cutler anymore… I put himself down myself.”

 “I don't want to go through that kind of loss again.” Danse whispered finally. It felt like some weight had lifted off his chest, maybe now Gray would understand why he couldn’t let himself get close.

“I won’t let you.” Gray whispered back.

Danse had thousands of words, thousands of reasons why he should just disregard the statement, for it was absurd that anyone could promise that, but instead he allowed it to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long because I wrote about four chapters, but ended up hating them and it took me some time to figure out exactly what I wanted out of this series. There are some discrepancies early on (the rings, Gray having a nephew, Gray's drastic personality change, etc.) in the story-line simply because I had no plan when I started writing this, but I'm either going to omit them or try to work them into what I have going on currently. Either way, thanks for the support and I know this is a bit of a mess canon-wise, especially with Danse, but I'm going to try and make it work.


	11. The Best Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray ties up a loose end.

_XI_

 

               Hancock’s dark irises were slightly visible in the slats of light that slid across his face. They moved slowly in the murk of his dark sclera, studying the man sat before him.  A new scar interrupted the flesh of his neck, his stride was interrupted with a concealed limp, and his eyes were slightly hollowed, but it was still Gray.

The mayor shrugged. “I have some reconnaissance work, if that’s not too below your pay grade.” He jeered playfully.

Gray smiled. “It would be an honor to assist a politician of your caliber.” He shot back.

“Now, are you going to get to it,” the ghoul picked up a familiar white bottle as he spoke, “or do you want something… _up front?”_

Gray wasn’t sure, truly. Hancock was his first choice for freelance work, and sex had been the last thing on his mind when he strode into the Old State House.

“I dislocated my hip, you know.” He said, attempting to shift the conversation. It had been some time since their last meeting, and he had a sinking feeling that the ghoul waited for him.

“Ah, so the cute limp isn’t the work of the boy scout?” Hancock replied. A nickname that Gray had dropped, but the ghoul remembered. “But either way, how did you manage to do that?” He added, now concerned.

Gray was quiet for a moment. “My squadron was returning from The Glowing Sea. The objective was to get information from a runaway Institute scientist, Brian Virgil. I killed Kellogg for the file, bastard was holed up in Fort Hagen and half-murdered by some vault dweller Nick Valentine put on his trail. Either way, a glowing Deathclaw tracked us for who knows how long. It attacked another Knight first, half tore his arm off and threw him into a tree, I know he’s alive, but they won’t tell me anything else. It got me after that, tore open most of my neck and when they put it down I fell too. Fractured a few ribs, fucked my hip, and was out for a couple days on blood loss.” He explained flatly.

Hancock was quiet. “Do you ever regret joining them?” He asked.

Gray stared at a knot in the floorboards and his fingers began to pull at the button of his sewn-on breast pocket. “I don’t know. I only did it at first because I thought I could get good money and some protection,” Gray blushed a bit as he continued, “and honestly, I was in love with Danse from the moment I looked at him. But I stayed even after he brushed me off because… there’s a real chance that we can take down the Institute. We can get revenge for the Commonwealth, revenge and some of the insane tech they’ve got wherever they are. John, the gen 3 synths, they’re _sentient_. They’re people with chips in their heads, the only difference is that their bodies are grown in a lab. They can overcome their programming if they try hard enough, I’ve hunted down rouges and trust me, they’re just as human as ghouls.”

Hancock’s brow raised.

“But only rouges. The controlled synths, they’re nothing more than fleshy pawns.” Gray clarified.

Hancock smiled. “You don’t have to tell me twice, you think I don’t know what the Railroad and Dr. Amari have going on across the street? I believe that everyone with a brain deserves to get a chance at being someone good. It’s bullshit that raiders get to be a free waste of air while good-hearted synths are stuck in slavery. But do you think your Brotherhood buddies agree?”

Gray stared out the window over the mayor’s shoulder. It was a foggy morning, the kind that January almost always brought. He didn’t answer.

“They hate ghouls too, you know.” Hancock said venomously.

“They’re my best shot.” Gray replied.

The ghoul sighed. He leaned over the table and his hand gently cupped the side of Gray’s face.

The Knight leaned into his touch and grinned slightly. “I won’t let them get to me that much, okay?”

The sun flashed through the blinds and illuminated Gray’s face more clearly. Hancock’s thumb ran over his scars and he knew that Gray was, now more than ever, not his. They, if anything, simply self-medicated in each other’s presence. Whether it was losing themselves in confessions of what had happened to them or in each other on vodka-soaked nights, they used each other symbiotically.

Gray’s fingers laced with his and his hand was gently pulled from his face as the Knight rose from his seat. Hancock stayed in his seat and his arm receded to lazily rest on the back of the couch. His eyes wandered to the ass of his former lover and flitted upward as Gray turned to look back in front of the closed double doors.

“Is there anything else you want?” Gray asked.

Hancock knew what this meant. Reading between the lines was very natural with Gray. Once he walked out those doors, he was gone. He shook his head. “Go get em, tiger.”

               A bead of sweat rolled down the nape of Danse’s neck, causing him to shudder slightly. Gray had been gone for some time, and had asked for him to buy some things and wait outside.

The thoughts that had lit an unwanted fire in his gut were interrupted by his partner returning in no different state than when he left. They said nothing as Danse handed him his share of the fusion cells.


	12. Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse fears the worst, and Gray works toward the Brotherhood's goals, I eat the canon for breakfast. You know how it is.

_XII_

 

               _He wipes away the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand as he leans against a cigarette machine. His ass is pressed against the front of it, his hips move slightly as he pulls the 10mm from his outer thigh and inspects the rounds within. He pushes a lock of hair out of his eyes with a well-practiced breath. His lips curl into a slight smirk as he realizes that he’s being watched._

Danse’s bloodshot eyes slide open instead of continuing upward. The fluttering in his heart fades quickly and is replaced with a sense of overwhelming pressure.

The memory from Pickman Gallery gives way to the underwhelming sights of the Prydwen’s pitiful mess hall and unenthusiastic chef.

“Worrying about him?” Shad asked from the seat beside him, already knowing the answer. His gimp arm sits between them, something Danse could barely bring himself to acknowledge.

It had been two days since Gray took the plunge through the teleporter, and even more since the squadron tasked with taking down a Courser, including himself, returned with nothing but cuts and bruises. And yet the Knight next to him was living on the Prydwen with borrowed time.

Danse doesn’t answer. He hadn't done much but dig through papers for scribes and help assemble parts of Proctor Ingram's side project.

               Gray wiped a bit of foreign tissue from his chin, and glanced toward his current companion to find X6-88 staring back blankly. Libertalia was no piece of cake, but it did not differ much from excursions Kellogg used to bring him along on. The memories of that man left him a bit raw, but he had his eyes set firmly on his prize: Institute trust.

Father had been less than pleased to see Kellogg’s old pet step through the teleporter instead of the vault dweller, but he couldn’t deny that a replacement for their man on the ground was necessary since he went MIA with a squadron of junker synths. He knew from a recent field report of Fort Hagen that the grizzled merc was dead alongside his expected guest.  Though he had doubts, the fact that Gray obeyed quietly and seemed to be unaffiliated was enough to ease the tired Director’s mind for the time being. The extra test not only proved Gray's loyalty to a degree, but got something done.

Gray was thankful that he had ditched his Brotherhood garb for something heavier and more familiar, a well-worn duster’s fabric hung near the back of his calves. A favored clothing item of mercenaries, it fit his body just as well as it had months earlier while concealing the polymer armor underneath.

A Fatman clattered off the side of the main ship and was lost in the water as a suppressed shot reached few ears. Gray exhaled thankfully as the Courser surged ahead of him to dispatch a newly-awakened raider.

The sniper rifle hit his shoulders and the faithful laser rifle moved into his hands.


	13. Bruised Mutfruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray's tragic and violent backstory pt 2; electric boogaloo.

_XIII_

 

               Gray was calm as he took his place in the seat across from Father.

X6-88 left his side for the first time in half a week, and the younger man tried to read the Director’s expression as they sat in silence.

“Do you know why Kellogg chose _you_? Out of all the little boys with parents he’d slaughtered?” He asked.

Gray felt his gut sink, but he did not show signs of weakness. “No.”

“Do you know who I am, or who the vault dweller was?” Father asked, searching the face of his new mercenary intently.

“No.” Gray replied coldly.

Father smiled solemnly, something that struck Gray as far too humane for him.

“Vault 111 was a cryogenic facility, designed to freeze its subjects until the world was safe again. My mother and father were accepted, and had no idea what the vault really was until the liquid nitrogen invaded their vascular system. The gen 3 synths needed pure DNA, which was on ice and ready for the taking all those years ago. I was but an infant when Kellogg raided the facility and killed my mother, leaving my father as a backup subject. The last sixty years Nathaniel remained there, until I decided to let him out on the 200-year anniversary of the war. I figured that he would be put down by something, and that thing was unseen until he met up with Kellogg.” Father explained.

Vault experiments were no stranger to Gray. He had heard about a few from Kellogg on nights he drank himself into memories after they’d snuck back into his home in Diamond City. The home that Father also knew. “What does that have to do with me?”

Father did not falter. “From ages four to ten I was Kellogg’s responsibility. They wanted me to see what the world above was like, and I know why complete rebuilding is the best option. Thing is, Kellogg was a broken man. He lost a child before me, long healed wounds opened when they took me back. Six years of attachment drags on the subconscious, so decades later, when he took you on, I let him. You were far from the first teenager he took pity on and dragged around, but the others were dispatched upon orders or were too weak to survive his... methods. Though, all his enhancements were not enough to keep the darker parts of his mind at bay, and he rationalized his keeping of you into making you his successor. I’d apologize for the way he treated you, but now I have someone to count on that isn’t half-rotted.”

Gray was silent, digesting the new information.

“He got rid of you, but I think we both know why that happened.” Father said, a cruel smile tugged at his lips, but he kept himself professional.

Gray’s stomach lurched, and he held himself from retching.

He had barely been a man back then, but he was the closest thing to _someone_ that Kellogg had for a long time.

They had been fresh out of both Institute orders and caps, so defending the pitiful Mutfruit farm north of USAF Satellite Station Oliva for some room and board plus pocket change seemed appealing for the time being. The farmer had a son named Klein that was a bit older than Gray, a brunette with dark blue eyes and a smile perpetually stuck to his face. The two of them would take trips to Tenpines Bluff to wait for caravans, which usually took a few days. During the three months Gray and Kellogg spent there, the boys' bond grew into something more than friendship. Gray had no clue what Kellogg would do if he knew about the attachment, since the grizzled mercenary's original plan was to kill the farmer and his son once he and Gray were done taking caps, as secrecy trumped their lives in the Institute's mind

The events of that night replayed in Gray’s head as he walked to his new quarters, he found himself unable to talk to anyone, much less convince Doctor Li. His focus centered on not breaking down, but the memories he suppressed were crawling out of whatever semblance of a cage he kept them in.

They had been relaxing in the upper balcony of the warehouse that served as a barn, on a sliver of open floor in front of crates of fermenting wine.  They shared a bottle of said wine and talked about all the uses for Mutfruit, when their conversation drifted to a certain product that they had made once before but only used in fleeting moments. A certain recipe written down in the small book Gray hauled around, the pages water-damaged from before he had the sense to wrap it in a chunk of an old raincoat. It was filled with both diagrams on how gun parts worked and Klein’s sloppy chicken scratch from nights where Gray stayed up to try and teach him how to read and write.

Their romance was a secret. They were teenagers after all, teenagers buzzed off of the excitement of each other’s company and fermented fruit. A small jar appeared from Klein’s pocket, and what ensued was something Gray wished he could remember more fondly.

Kellogg had killed the farmer the instant the Pip Boy chimed. He stalked out of the house, happy to finally get back into more important matters, but found his mood flipped when he entered the barn silently to hear a poorly muffled groan.

Gray did not hear him as he opened the large doors, nor did he notice the sudden rush of moonlight.

Klein was shot through his left lung, and the bullet passed through to embed itself a few inches into the benign flesh of Gray’s side. He was pushed off of Klein's lap and onto his back as the familiar burn of steel ate away the pleasant warmth in his gut. His shocked partner slid off of the second floor and hit the ground with a sickening thud and a surprised scream. Kellogg finished him off with his boot as Gray regained enough sense to pull his clothes back on as the death of his first love unfolded beneath him.

But as the Stimpack knitted his first wound and the knife blade wedged the bullet onto the floor with a soft _tap_ , Kellogg’s fist collided with his kiss-swollen lips and blood welled from a split and his body hit the floor with a _thud_.

When he awoke and regained himself, flames licked the walls and the scent of burned flesh and smoke stung his throat. The dried blood that held skin on his lip together separated as he coughed, and his arm fractured when he hit the hard ground after pulling himself out through a window. As he stumbled away the barn’s balcony fell and pulled out part of the side wall, causing the place to finally cave in.

               He stumbled into his room, tripping over the slight lip in the floor. X6-88 grabbed his bicep and held him on his feet until he regained balance.

“Do you require medical attention?” The Courser asked.

“I-I’m fine. Thank you, you’re dismissed.” Gray stuttered, bile rising in his throat.

His former companion looked at him with concern as the door slid closed. Gray did not breathe easily until his soft footsteps faded away into the hum of the Institute.

The information had soured in his stomach, and he vomited the contents of his wasteland lunch into the toilet before limply curling up on the floor.

He missed Danse. The wastes felt empty without the familiar sound of armor behind him, X6-88's quiet footfalls made him unnerved out in the field. 

A shower made him feel a bit better, though the initial heat of the water was comfortable he opted for a cooler temperature that made him less homesick. He laid in bed for hours, realizing that he missed the omni-present movement of the sun on the surface.

He thought of the dirt above him, the miniscule threat that it would crush him hung in his mind. He wanted to tear it down himself, bring the tons of irradiated stone and earth down into the place that was so void of its impurities. His fingers absently reached for one of the rivets in the ceiling and curled back into his palm when the distance proved too great.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Six-year-old memories, an off-white smile with a smattering of dirt and freckles framing blue eyes. He rolls onto his side and rubs his eyes, the chorus of exploding patches of light erasing them.

A deep amber gaze reached him. One that is hot but trying to be cold, a tight-lipped expression that holds back something more loving. Dark hair that he’d felt against his shoulder in fleeting moments, that he’d watched refuse to be tamed after days under a helmet. 

With his own hair dripping onto unclean armor he set out to get what he came for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not trying to insinuate any sort of homophobic tendencies in Kellogg because even for me that's a bit of a stretch on his character. I'm going for the fact that Gray demonstrated weakness while betraying him in a way, if that makes sense.   
> The layout of the warehouse is a bit hard to describe, but I based it off of Hancock's Strongroom building if that helps.


	14. Resurgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse has feelings.

_XIV_

 

               Danse was a scar.

He moved robotically, not allowing his thoughts to permeate his façade. The evidence of his injury was apparent, but of little consequence anymore. He did not give himself to anyone, even in the sense of a question of his feelings that could be answered in one word.

“Paladin?” Ingram asked. Danse’s expertise on power armor landed him in her command in regard to Liberty Prime. He was staring over the horizon again, and she knew exactly what he was looking for.

He turned to look at her. “Yes?”

“Did you check through the reconnaissance files to see where we can locate the magnets?” She asked.

“No need, I’ve been through a hospital near relay tower OSC-527, and I know for a fact that they had quite a few “MRI” machines. I tipped off Quinlan a few months ago, but they haven't been needed or wanted until now. I have a squadron readying themselves to leave at 0900 tomorrow.” He replied.

She awarded him a curt nod, but something was weighing on her as she returned to her studies of Assaultron mechanics.

“Do you blame me?” She asked. It wouldn’t be the first time she had, nor probably the last.

 “I blame the Institute.” He replied for a fourth time.

Ingram wished she could see under his helmet, as if his cold exterior would lend any information on what was beneath it.

He stared back off at the city, how many times had he and Gray slipped through back alleys to spend a night in Goodneighbor, or wiped out a gang of Super Mutants alongside Diamond City Security?

He was picking again. He shook his head slightly and listened to the flame of hunger in his gut. “I’m going to mess, you want anything?” He asked.

Ingram shook her head.

“Ask if he’s got the Mirelurk finished. If not, grab me some Cram.” Shad called from below the catwalk, where he sat organizing bolts and screws that the patrols had brought back.

Ingram had fought tooth and nail to keep him from being sent back to the Citadel in DC, for obvious reasons.

Danse smirked. The hours with them had served as a bandage, and he wasn’t sure what would happen when it was time for them to come off, time for him to return to more active duties.

A loud but familiar _crack_ sounded from behind the airport ruins, and he propelled himself off of the catwalk to deal with what he assumed was a pod of synths. His impact sent small parts into the air, and Shad cursed him out under his breath for jumbling some of his piles together.

He turned a corner and Ashmaker’s purr ceased.

His arms felt heavy, the armor foreign as his heart beat wildly. He was dreaming, a synth must have gotten to him, knocked him out of his wits.

The gun went slack on its strap, striking his metal-clad thigh.

Sunlight illuminated loose strands of his clean hair, the worn leather looked as pristine as when it came out of the hidden away footlocker in Red Rocket. The scar on his neck had faded due to Stimpack use, and the limp was absent as he took a slow step forward.

“Gray?” Danse asked, his throat tight.

“Danse?” _He_ replied.

And suddenly, Danse was a wound again.


	15. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies and clarifications.

 

_XV_

               The warm breath was back on his neck in the cool morning hours. The footsteps that echoed his own had returned, alongside a voice that he had almost forgotten and racked his brain trying to remember nights before. The cautious part of his mind was at ease for the time being, knowing that for now he could simply enjoy knowing that Gray was alive, and not restrain himself. He felt that he owed himself at least that much, and it was odd following through with an impulse.

Danse rose from bed quietly and dressed quickly before heading out the door almost silently to get breakfast.

He had decided to dismiss the squadron and go with only Gray. Maxson had agreed and switched them over to a scrap run. They were to collect parts for a weapon the whole Brotherhood had learned of long before Gray.

Gray’s eyes opened to catch the sliver of light disappear behind the door of Danse’s quarters as it closed. He rolled into the patch of heat left by his companion, breathing in his scent as opposed to the Institute stink of his own skin. Doctor Li had been a hard sell, especially with the two-day retention op he was sent on that extended his stay, allowing for the Abraxo to mark him.

Danse seemed like nothing big had happened, but Gray heard the emotion in his voice. He didn’t care if Gray had been sent to wipe him off the map by the enemy, the Danse behind the ruins pulled him against his armor and held onto him as if to make sure he was still there, the Danse behind the ruins _trusted him_. A light bruise shone where his forearm had been pressed against the rounded corner of Danse’s chest piece.

He was warmer, almost like after the Glowing Sea. The way Danse looked at him once they’d figured something out while building the teleporter still swam in Gray’s head when he fell to his insomnia.

It felt like how they were before Fairline Hill Estates, before something in Danse shifted and his mood went through an Ice age, before Kellogg wormed his way back into Gray’s head and triggered the same sort of event.

He was closer to a kid then, exploring a new relationship and allowing the repressed childhood in him to shine through. Now he was back to a soldier.

A soldier that found himself at peace when he could quietly enjoy the leftover body heat and faint scent of dirt left by the absence of Danse that he knew was temporary.

               Milton General Hospital had been quiet. Fairline Hill Estates was quieter.

The weight of the magnet and the Kent's deathbed felt like nothing in comparison to the words unsaid between them inside those same four walls.

A Radstorm had them hunkered down for the night. Gray was nervously smoking a cigarette and Danse was focusing on trying to see through the din of the weather.

Gray exhaled slowly and thought about how a few months ago he had felt a lot of Danse. He still remembered the place below the larger man’s ear that had pressed some of his buttons.  “Danse?” He asked quietly, his voice tight as he held smoke in his lungs.

“Yes?” Danse replied.

“I’m sorry.” He said flatly. The smoke leaving his lips as he spoke took on its own greenish hue as it dissipated in the still air.  “For the last time we were here. I’m sorry that I put you in that situation.”

Danse’s eyes tried to make it through the darkness of the room, but the cherry of Gray’s cigarette was the only thing he could make out of his partner without turning the scope on him. His power armor was once again against the wall as he sat, feeling exposed.

“I was the one who reciprocated.” He replied.

“And obviously you changed your mind. I don’t want to shift blame here, just know that I’m not holding it against you.” Gray said, the finality of his statement obvious.

They didn’t discuss it further, but the pressure on their chests had lessened slightly.


	16. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liberty Reprimed part 2.

 

_XVI_

               “The Glowing Sea?” Danse asked.

“Kidman is going with you two. The area has already been mapped by scouts, all you three have to do is get rid of hostiles and secure the payload.” Maxson replied dryly. He seemed to have an edge to his voice as he talked to Danse, something that unnerved Gray deeply.

Gray pushed off of the wall to stand a bit closer to Danse, as Kidman nervously tapped her index finger against the clipboard on her hip.

“I know that you have been through some things, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were part of the original op that went further into the Glowing Sea than anyone else here has managed. And Kidman is one of the few scribes that I trust to handle themselves in combat.” He said. Even the compliment seemed hollow.

Gray stared into his eyes and tried to find something that would allude to why his tone was off. Maxson stared back at him, almost accusingly.

Kidman could almost feel the tension in the room, their behavior reminded her of field reports detailing mongrels fighting within the pack.

Danse could also pick up on some tension, but wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Are you okay?” He asked simply.

Maxson’s hard glare shifted onto him. “I am fine, _Paladin_.” He growled.

Kidman glanced worriedly at Gray as his jaw locked and he bit his tongue.

Danse’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing as Maxson continued with his orders.

               “I think this is the place.” Kidman’s voice buzzed through her helmet. Her restored Pip Boy blinked through a hatch in her armor, which she closed with a small _click_.

Danse walked between his compatriots and pushed open the already-unlocked door. He looked back at Kidman quizzically as airborne ash swirled into the building.

“ _Shit_.” She hissed. “That probably means the Children of Atom have gotten to it. We have to move.”

“Gladly.” Gray grumbled. Nervous anger pulsed in his veins and forced his feet forward.

The men pounded down the stairs of the facility as Kidman called directions behind them, until they got near the end of the tunnels Gray slid into a crouch near a bend and held up a fist.

Danse froze as he too saw the fresh corpses and ghouls tearing into them. Kidman crouched and pulled out her rifle.

Gray picked up a shell casing from the floor and tossed it past them and into a room, where it bounced off of a pipe and the ferals all turned their backs to the group.

Danse dispatched the horde with little more than a sweat and kept his eyes on the end of the hall as Gray moved past him to inspect the carnage.

“Nuka Grenade. You were right.” He said, shaking human tissue off his hand and turning to Kidman.

“It seems that they also activated the launch sequence, without anything on the launch pad.” She sighed.

“Either way,” Danse said with a scowl, “I don’t think the ghouls managed to get all of them.”

“Who’s out there?! I heard your fire!” A voice called through an opening door.

Gray stood up and turned to see a haggard man behind a near-trashed Assaultron that was missing an arm and most of its left leg. It wobbled as it stood.

“Who the hell are you?” Gray yelled back. Kidman could tell that, even almost a day later, animosity remained within him.

Danse raised Ashmaker up a bit in a silent threat.

“State your purpose, stranger. You walk on Atom's hallowed ground!” The man yelled.

“Give me a name and I’ll consider.” Gray replied, stepping closer. The robot twitched and steadied itself against the door frame.

“I am Brother Henri. I seek to serve Atom’s glory by guarding His relics, if you want the work of Him you will have to get through _me_. Step further and you will face His Wrath!” The man snarled.

Gray glanced at the robot. It had _Atom’s Wrath_ painted on its chest neatly.

“Danse, robot.” He barked, diving to the side to give the Paladin a clear shot. The mangled bot was ripped to shreds under the hail of bullets as Brother Henri dove away from it and pulled out his own weapon.

Gray shot him in the leg and the hand that held said weapon, causing him to crumple to the ground as the mercenary leaped to kick away the gun. Henri groaned as it clattered across the floor.

Gray’s heavy boot rested on his leg wound, causing him to wriggle and smash his fist uselessly into the armor with a yelp.

“You… trivialize that which resides here… this place is holy!” He said through his teeth.

Gray shifted his free foot and kicked him in the ribs with a sickly _crack_. Henri cried out as the pressure on his leg increased.

“I’ll have to get through _you_ , huh?” The merc asked through his teeth. He bent down and punched him in the face, Henri’s nose folded to the right as he struggled against the metal of his attacker with his bare hands.

Kidman flinched. “Gray…” She said, stepping forward.

Gray rose to feet and turned to face her as he ground his heel against the broken ribs and the battered man gurgled meekly. “What?!” He said venomously.

She flinched again and Danse stood a bit straighter, something he did when he wanted to be intimidating.

Gray sighed.  “You’re right, I shouldn’t be that much of an asshole.” He rifled through the man’s pockets as Henri gurgled and flailed meekly.

Kidman stepped past him quietly and began searching through the terminal.

“Here.” Gray said, tossing her Henri’s Password.

“Thanks.” She replied warmly.

The doors screeched open as the pool of blood around Henri grew in size.

“You two, out. I’m under orders to stay here on guard until a patrol arrives to claim the bombs.” Danse said suddenly.

Gray’s gut dropped. “Danse— “There is no point in arguing. I will not go against direct orders.” The Paladin replied before Gray could finish.

Kidman’s hand rested on his shoulder as Danse faced them through the open door. “Come on. He can handle himself.” She tried to reassure him.

Gray looked him over one last time and bit his tongue once again as he followed Kidman out of the facility. He had a terrible feeling as he left, and every muscle in his body screamed for him to run back to Danse, but he knew that the Paladin would simply scold him and Kidman did not deserve to make the trip back alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bent the truth, as usual. The Children of Atom having visited recently gives Henri a real reason to be there. Atom’s Wrath being damaged fit better with my scenario, as it would explain why he hadn't simply made the robot kill the ghouls.


	17. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blind Betrayal. // There's a bit of domestic violence between the boys in this one so if that's a trigger, you've been warned. Nothing non-con, but there is some sexual content in this as well.

 

_XVII_

 

               He had been calm as Maxson talked. He had not said one word, simply agreed and used what was left of his acting ability to make it seem like Danse’s death had already been taken care of. He knew that if Maxson sent anyone else, Danse had no hope of surviving this somehow.

But as he wiped the blood of a feral ghoul off of his hands and stared up at the bleak night sky, he felt alone once again. He wondered how Danse got away, but the fact that he was most likely alive warmed Gray and pushed him north. Haylen tipped him off in the shadows of the Prydwen after she stormed into Quinlan’s office. With tears in her eyes she begged him, and he had held her steady and reassured her that he wanted to save Danse even more than she did.

He had stormed into The Slog with tension in his shoulders. The settlers looked at him warily as he cleaned his guns and was swept up in thought. Wiseman was the first one to enter the bunk room with him.

“Are you staying the night?” He asked somberly.

Gray paused in his motion. “Yes.” 

“Will you do anything rash while you are here?” The ghoul asked. Gray looked over his shoulder to see a small gaggle of workers looking their way.

“Of course not. The Brotherhood and I do not share the exact same beliefs.” Gray replied.

“Good.” Wiseman replied.

               Gray found it hard to sleep as the muffled squeaking of a wrench filled the air. He moved out of bed groggily and sheepishly walked to the origin of the noise. He opened an equally squeaky door and Arlen turned to look at him.

“Hello.” The ghoul rasped.

Gray was silent.

“I’ve seen you before. You had an armored friend. Where has he gone?” Arlen asked.

“He’s being pursued by The Brotherhood of Steel. They want to kill him.” Gray replied coldly. “And I can’t lose him too” He added, so soft that it was almost missed by the aging toy-maker.

“You are not the first man to have lost, and you will not be the last.” Arlen sighed. He turned back to the Giddy-up Buttercup. “Before the war, I had a family.”

Gray closed the door to the room and sat in the corner between it and a metal shelf, staring at Arlen’s back. They shared a comfortable silence for some time, before the ghoul piped up again.

“Though, who didn’t have a family before the war? The difference between most of them and I was that they had time to love their families. I worked and worked, and found no time for my wife and daughter. These metal horses are my life’s work, were my ticket into a cushy management job with short hours. I wasn’t long off of the promotion, a few weeks at most when… the bombs…” He trailed off.

“The Institute took my family and my childhood.” Gray said.

There was a bit more silence.

“You must be what, thirty?” Arlen asked.

“Twenty-four.” Gray replied with a dry laugh. “You?”

“About two-hundred and forty-four.” Arlen replied. “My little girl would have been dead by now, and my great-grandchildren would probably be roaming the earth.”

“What was it like, back then?” Gray asked.

“About as complicated as it is now, I’m afraid. You worked until you sleazed your way up the ladder or you perished in a low-paying job under mounds of debt. Though, it wasn’t all bad. You did not have to worry about going out for water and returning with a few less limbs.” Arlen replied.

Gray smiled warmly, and they sat in silence once again, until Gray walked back to bed and was lulled to sleep by the squeaking and light taps.

               The terminal at Listening Post Bravo was a simple hack. The elevator had shaken on the way down, and the Yao Guai corpse next to the water had not surprised him. But Danse, Danse staring at him blankly in a torn uniform with his laser rifle on his hip, that was what shocked him.

“I wish Maxson had sent someone else.” Was the first thing he said.

“If it had been anyone else you’d be dead already.” Gray replied. It was real, this was really happening to him.

Danse sighed. The room was musty, unused. The concrete was cracked, and the electronics were waterlogged. The place stank of decay and rough endings.

“Look, I'm not blind to the fact that we're good friends and this must be very difficult for you. I am just as surprised as you are, I feel like I've been in control of my entire life, making my own decisions and determining my own fate. But none of that matters because... you need to kill me. I am the enemy, Gray.” He said.

“Synths are just humans with mechanical parts. You’ve been AWOL for _years_ , Danse. If they wanted you back, they’d have you. We can fight through this!” Gray argued. Frustraion built in his gut.

“I'm ready to accept the consequences of my true identity. I need to be the example, not the exception.” Danse said, stepping forward. He was calm, his thoughts had probably centered around going quietly once he landed here.

“I know that you want to live.” Gray said. He was choking on emotion. “Everything you’ve done for the Brotherhood is against the Institute, you’ve done _nothing_ wrong to humanity.”

“I don’t want to live. Everything that I am, is gone now. You take me, and continue the fight. I’m ready to die for the cause.” Danse said.

Gray’s throat tightened, and he lunged forward. His fist collided with Danse’s jaw.

The synth stumbled backward and swung back, catching the merc in the ribs. Gray latched onto his arm and pulled him into a headlock. Danse’s fingers dug into his forearm as he smashed both of them into a wall, flecks of paint and crumbled concrete fell. Gray let go and they tumbled to the floor. Danse caught him in the ribs again as he moved over top of him and Gray pounded his boot into his shoulder. Danse was forced backward. He spat out blood that welled from his split lip as Gray jumped on him. His hands wound around Gray’s neck as the man’s knuckles split on his cheekbone.

Gray’s punches were now aimed at his shoulders and when they weakened his blunt nails scratched at the strong hands around his neck. He tried to kick, but the way Danse held him compromised the strength of them. His lungs burned, and his vision spotted, he was so far gone that tears welled from his eyes as he choked out “ _I love you._ ”

And suddenly he was on his side, gasping for air as the same hands that had brought him to the edge pushed a Stimpack expertly into the side of his neck. He curled up and held his throat while looking up at who had been his attacker moments earlier. The man was sat back on his heels, his marred hands in his lap as he stared forward with nothing but concern.

Gray coughed and locked eyes with him for a moment. Neither of them moved.

“I love you.” He repeated, his voice ruined. “And I now know that you truly want to live.”

Danse simply sat there, his uniform was speckled with blood and small rips from the rough floor, alongside a vertical tear from the Yao Guai that was accompanied by a new scar.

Impulse. It was what drove him away from the troop that had come to take him to Maxson. It made him drag himself away from the Brotherhood. It told him to wrap his hands around Gray’s neck and not let go.

And now it was telling him that Gray was right. His heart beat in his chest furiously and he was suddenly aware of how much dirt and dust they had kicked up during the fight.

Gray sat up and let go of his neck. The light red that shone there was indicative of the harsh bruising that would show the next day. “Danse?” He croaked, the same emotion-filled tone that had ripped him apart at the Airport Ruins now made him feel whole.

Danse shifted closer to him and pulled Gray into his arms, burying his face into his neck.

The way Gray simply accepted the gesture and clutched at his shoulders made Danse realize how much faith they had in each other. His impulsiveness was taking over, the subconscious fear of unconscious action that he only now understood was lost in that moment.

The burst of warmth at his jugular surprised the mercenary. A tongue swirled around his bruising flesh, gentle but yet heavy.

Fingers scratched weakly at the material of Danse’s uniform as his hands gripped Gray’s hips and his teeth scraped against the sensitive skin under his pulse point. Impulse is what made him bite into Gray’s jawline hotly and groan into the mercenary’s mouth when Gray bit into his lip. It was why he undid Gray’s belt and lifted his ass to pull down his pants while the merc shifted his legs to help with the process. He took a moment to unzip his uniform and then his hands were back on flesh.

Danse’s thumb encircled the birthmark on Gray’s thigh, his lips ran over a scar that must’ve come from the trip there, he pulled Gray closer and the smaller man felt a heat against his lower abdomen.

“You don’t have to.” Danse whispered calmly. What Gray didn’t have to do, he wasn’t sure of. He had no plan, only going by feeling at that point.

Gray looked up as hands larger than his own shifted to hold his hips, “ _I want to_.”

The tactical part of Danse’s mind told him that Gray could kill him. That it would be all too easy for him to pull a knife from the duster that loosely clung to his left shoulder. The rest of him could care less.

Danse pulled gently at his partner’s hair tie. A wash of dark hair spilled onto his partner’s shoulders as he traced the lip scar with his tongue. Gray bit at his jaw as he kissed his way downward, pressing his hand into Danse’s shoulder. The former Paladin took the hint and pulled Gray upward as he shifted onto his back smoothly.

Gray was practiced with his mouth, though some rustiness shone through as Danse sucked air through his teeth as Gray slurred an apology about his. Danse was slightly larger than what he had been used to, which made him apprehensive about what could come next. The throaty groan elicited from his partner made his lower half not care

Danse’s hands roamed in his hair and their eyes locked for a few seconds before Danse’s widened and he suddenly pulled him off. It was silent for a few seconds, Gray’s heart seemed to have stopped in his chest as a trail of saliva gleamed once again in low light.

“I hear something.” He whispered, panic replacing lust.

And then Gray heard it too, the familiar _whirr_ of a Vertibird followed by the _thud_ of a landing.

And then there were zippers being zipped, buckles being buckled, and dust was flung back into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here for the explicit-ness this chapter was pretty unsatisfying, but I'm going much deeper into the story at this point. This was supposed to be a slightly drawn out smut fic. Look where we are now.


	18. Allowance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending bits of Blind Betrayal

_XVIII_

 

               Elder Maxson wished he smoked as he paced outside of the bunker. Anything to do with his hands would be useful, especially after they had pulled information from scribe Haylen.

When those doors opened he turned slowly. When he saw Danse, a scowl was burned onto his face. “Why has this... this thing not been destroyed?!” He yelled.

“Because you’re wrong about him, Elder. He’s not just a random synth, he’s done so much for the Brotherhood and you won’t give him a chance!” Gray retorted, moving in front of Danse to shield him somewhat.

“It's not his fault. It's mine.” Danse interjected.

Gray looked back at him for a split second and his hand tightened into a fist.

“I'll deal with you in a moment.” Maxson snarled, looking over the Knight’s shoulder. His eyes then shifted to Gray himself. “As for you, I don’t want your excuses. I want him _dead_.”

 “After all the sacrifices I've made and all the battles I've fought for the Brotherhood, you need to listen to me. You owe me that much.” Gray said. The Elder grimaced but did not interrupt. “Danse hasn’t done one thing to jeopardize the Brotherhood’s goal. He’s kept so many people alive, and yet you choose to discard him!”

Gray then swung at Maxson, but Danse grabbed the smaller man's bicep and threw him to the ground, then pulled a gun and pointed it at his only remaining ally.

“He bleeds like any one of us, and he’d protect you even now.” Gray rasped after a bit of stunned silence from all parties.

Maxson’s features softened slightly. Danse did not help Gray up, but instead stared back at the Elder. “I thought I was human, Arthur.”

Maxson sighed. “Danse. As far as I'm concerned, you're dead. You were pursued and slain by this Brotherhood Knight and your remains were incinerated, from this day forward, you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwen, or speak to anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel, save for Apollon. Should you choose to ignore me, know that you'll be fired upon immediately. Do you understand me?”

“I do.” Danse replied.

“Thank you, Elder Maxson.” Gray said.

“Don't mistake my mercy for acceptance,” he turned to Danse, “And you, the _only_ reason you're still alive... is because of him.”

Danse replied with a curt nod.

“I'm returning to the Prydwen, Knight.” Maxson added finally. “I expect to see you there, alone, sometime soon.”

He stalked off to the Vertibird and Gray’s heart only stopped pounding in his ears when the whirr of the blades had vanished. He turned to Danse. “We’re staying here from now on.”

“My thoughts exactly. As long as I stay out of the Brotherhood's way, he won't send anyone after me.” Danse said, relief evident in his tone.

“I guess we should get to work on the bunker.” Gray said, placing his hands on his hips.

“Don’t keep Maxson waiting. In the meantime, I'll start making this bunker more livable.” Danse offered.

There was a pause.

“Are you okay?” Gray asked.

Danse looked at him, standing there looking so confident and yet terrified. His hair was still down and longer than how it was usually kept, and even though the Stimpack had healed all the busted capillaries on his face, Danse could still feel his neck in his hands.

“No.” He replied.

Gray stepped closer, but stilled himself as Danse motioned to step backward.

“There’s nothing binding us anymore. I am not your superior, you are not my assignment. And yet, you came here to save me because you love me. You _love_ me, even though I’m a synth, because to you the flesh is still human, but I don’t know what’s been implanted in my mind. Hell, I don’t even know if half the shit that keeps me up at night really happened. My life's starting over, and I need to come to terms with everything I've lost and everything I've gained.” He said slowly, as if it was all hitting him at once.

Gray felt himself getting misty-eyed, but did not let himself spill over because one of them had to be a rock.

“I don't know if it's friendship, or an anomaly in my programming. After all, I'm not really human. But whatever it is, I can't deny that I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met.” He said quietly.

“You’re all I have, Danse. Without you, I’m a vodka-soaked mercenary looking for love in a ghoul fuckbuddy.” Gray said with a laugh.

His tone was light, but Danse knew he meant what he said. The impossibility of it all made his head spin, the sudden freedom of Brotherhood red tape opened doors in his personal life. Gray was there, in front of him, leather-clad once again and yet somehow years older than the day they met almost 6 months ago.

“You love me.” The synth said. “I think I love you too.”

Gray’s face was wet with his own tears as he fell against Danse’s neck in a tight hug that ended with both of them on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been slacking, pinky promise. Just a lot of content that I have to make decisions about and/or write.  
> I finished this chapter and honestly thought I posted it earlier.


	19. .25 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tactical thinking, emotional doing.

_XIX_

               The box hit the floor with a solid _thump_. Gray removed Danse’s old helmet and stepped out of his old power armor. “Maxson let me clear out your quarters.”

Danse cringed a bit at the thought of Gray going through all his things, even though they both had frequented the place often.

“Speaking of clearing, Wiseman allowed me to borrow a Brahmin and sent a worker with me to help lug all our furniture and materials from Red Rocket while you were gone.” Danse replied. “That gas station will be missed, and we owe the Slog another favor.”

Gray strode past whatever Danse had been cooking to explore the rest of the bunker “Why do we owe them? We already cleared out the Super Mutants.” His volume rose as he rounded the corner into the bedroom area.

Danse leaned back to see what he was doing through the window as the mercenary shrugged off the duster and tossed it onto a trunk against a pile of rubble. “Because I don’t like it when they’re so close but not in our debt.”

Gray was surprised to see both of their beds pushed together against a wall. “ _Pfft!_ You just aren’t very keen on having ghouls be even with us!” He called. Danse didn’t reply right away.

“Not true.” Danse finally said once he sat on the floor next to him.

Gray grinned slightly and removed the tie from his river-wet hair. He then leaned his head against the other man’s calf. The silence was less comfortable than usual, the touching too foreign, and Danse could feel himself sweating.

“I missed you.” Gray admitted softly. And like that, something clicked into place.

Danse blushed, a reaction that Gray hadn't pulled out of him in a long time.

He didn’t know what to say, because he’d be a liar if he acted like the boredom that came with his absence hadn’t conjured up memories that led to self-indulgent activities. “I’ve always thought that you were attractive.” He blurted.

Gray blushed too. “Thank you. For that, and for everything. For seeing something in me back at Cambridge.”

Danse pulled a couple of clean bowls from his side. He filled them both with Radstag stew and handed Gray a mostly-vegetable portion, as was the merc's preference. “I saw that mercenary gleam. I knew if you wanted something, you’d get it one way or another. I was hoping that the something could be the same as the Brotherhood.” He explained.

“Speaking of something I want, I got you this.” Gray sat up straight and rifled through a buttoned inner breast pocket. He then took Danse’s hand and dropped a ring into his palm.

Danse stared at it, and then him for a moment. “Where did you get this?”

“Back at Fort Hagen, Nick’s guy had two on him. I fiddled with the other one so that it would fit me. Tell me if that one’s okay.” Gray replied.

Danse put it on and shook his hand around before twisting it off.

“Gray— “If you don’t want it, that’s okay too.” Gray interjected.

Danse slipped it back on. “It’s perfect.”

Gray’s head then rested on his calf again, and he smiled like an idiot as he chewed. Danse was a much quicker eater, and soon his fingers were winding themselves into Gray’s hair and massaging his damp scalp as the water from it seeped through his casual wear.

The old ceramic tapped against the concrete floor softly as Gray shifted into removing his armor. He piled it in a crate near the door and stood up to stretch with a pleased groan.

Danse put their dishes into an old wooden box and placed it next to the elevator. As he stood back up, arms gently laced around his midsection and Gray’s chin rested on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” the merc asked.

Danse smiled and wrapped his hands around Gray’s. “It’s perfect.” He replied once again, leaning his head back onto Gray’s shoulder.

Gray nipped his ear. “You’re perfect.”

“What does Maxson want you to do now?” Danse asked lightly.

Gray’s smile faded. “He wants me to take out the Railroad.” He said solemnly.

Danse stared at his face. “Don’t tell me you have history with them.”

Gray sighed. “Right after Kellogg and I fell out they took me in for a bit. I helped them keep their smuggling routes clear and they tossed me steady caps. I took on other jobs that kept me from them for a while, and once their old hideout got raided I never saw them again.”

“You can’t go alone.”

“You can’t come with me.”

Danse’s gaze shifted to the floor. “Who owes you a favor?”

Gray stared into the fire as silence settled around them. “MacCready.”

               “Brotherhood of Steel, eh Apollon?” MacCready jeered. “Never took you for the military type.”

“I never took you for the farming type.” Gray replied with a half-smile. Covenant loomed behind them.

“Those people creep me out, I’m not going back.” Robert replied heatedly. “You still riding Hancock?” He added with a pleased smirk.

Gray whipped around to face him and wrestled him into a headlock. “You still bad at close-range?!” He asked, swiping his hat and digging his knuckles into his scalp.

“All right, all right! Shi-Sheesh!” MacCready yelled.

Gray let him go and handed him back his hat as the former Gunner dusted himself off. “Ya can’t jump a guy and expect him to fight back well, okay?”

Gray rolled his eyes. “Especially not with that piece.”

MacCready grumbled something heatedly, but did not truly disagree.

“The first stop is Diamond City, I’ll need some parts. Then… Old North Church.” Gray said.

“Why there?” MacCready asked.

Gray didn’t reply.

“Ollie. You gotta tell me what we’re doing here.” He said. “We may be swapping favors, but I don’t do that kind of thing blind.”

Gray sighed. “I need help taking out the Railroad.”

MacCready stopped walking. “You’re going to _what?_ ”

“Long story short, I need to stay on Arthur Maxson’s good side.” Gray spat. He also stopped, but did not look back at his long-time friend.

The scent of gasoline wafted from the bridge, water lapped at the shoreline a few yards away, and the faint buzz of a far-off Bloatfly reached them as silence hung in the air.

“You’re sure that you want to do this?” MacCready asked.

Gray didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

MacCready looked him up and down. “Lead the way, then.”

               “Paladin?” A Knight-Captain asked for the third time before MacCready elbowed Gray.

Gray cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed a bit. “Yeah, let’s do this. On my count.”

The soldier nodded curtly, and Gray stepped back along with the rest.

“One.”

Doubt entered his mind. Did he really need to do this? He and Danse could run, back to the Capital Wasteland, even further if need be.

“Two.”

Hancock would be livid. He’d have to break the news himself, he owed the mayor that much. He might get banned from Goodneighbor, maybe worse. He could side with the Railroad, they’d know how to get Danse safe, get him out. But Danse would never forgive him, never understand. He shouldn’t but he could still go back, still run.

“Three.”

The explosion blew both the wall and door, they rushed in under the cover of smoke.

A hail of bullets whizzed into the cloud, ricocheting off of body armor and embedding in flesh in tandem. Screams filled the room as Gray ducked into the open and Glory almost froze at the sight of him.

He shot her in the head as other beams hit her chest and legs. The minigun hit the ground as more laser fire sizzled in the air.

Other bullets headed his way, Gray kicked at the rotted leg of a weapon workbench. It fell and became his cover as a .38 bullet found its way into his left shoulder. He looked over to see Drummer Boy running at him, still firing.

Before he could turn from the others to defend himself, the man’s head exploded. MacCready chambered another round and aimed for a heavy.

Carrington appeared next, one arm bleeding heavily and the other grasping a 10mm that didn’t have many rounds left. He had moved up behind a pillar, but never saw the beam coming. Gray's gut dropped lower than he thought possible.

Deacon, now only a disturbance in the air, dispatched a Knight and made a break for the door. MacCready had a bit of experience with Stealth Boys, and got him through one of his thighs and somewhere higher with a quick hip-fire. An impressive arc of blood trailed, but the ripple in space went unnoticed by two soldiers engrossed in the firefight on either side of the door. The mercenary swore under his breath.

Gray advanced to where Tinker Tom lay dead to try and get a shot at Desdemona, who was keeping them pinned down alongside a heavy that had taken Glory’s place. He stood as a Gauss-rifle-toting soldier caused the minigun to hit the floor once again before he could get in a shot of his own.

Desdemona looked to Gray as the firing ceased. He was closest to her, she was the last one present. The soldiers waited for their Paladin to take the kill.

With every weapon pointed at her burned and bleeding frame, she said one thing, and then exploded into red-tinged ash when Gray pulled the trigger.

 “ _Traitor_.”

They found Deacon sitting against the wall closest to the door of the church. He was bleeding profusely from an aortic wound and his eyes slid over to Gray. They silently echoed Desdemona’s words as his body clung to life. MacCready put him out of his misery as Gray stood there, almost frozen with the weight of what had occurred. The Railroad’s final stand had lasted fifteen minutes.

Knights and their superiors patted him on the back as they walked out together, most celebrating the single-digit casualties and others the fact that they could get a proper medical once-over back at the Prydwen.

He and MacCready didn't wait for the Vertibird. Gray had a weight in his body, something that he knew could only be fixed one way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to omit the rings bit from chapter 1 (It’s now deleted but if you never read it, Gray was mentioned to have rings on twine around his neck, as he was initially planned to have been the Sole Survivor). This work is in no way polished, but the least I can do is acknowledge that fact. (in full honesty I'm not too proud of the early chapters as a whole)


	20. Self-Help Masochism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another beating.

 

_XX_

 

               Hancock catching him in the jaw knocked the fourth cigarette since Old North Church from his mouth. It fell under the ghoul's foot as he pushed Gray backward.

The merc collapsed onto the coffee table as the mayor yelled at him. The words barely reached him, the anger of it all more impactful than the curses. Neighborhood Watch pounded on the door and Hancock screamed for them to fuck off. Gray thought he heard them yelling for MacCready too, but he couldn’t be sure.

Gray's silent tears finally spilled over and his wounds burned as Hancock gave him what he knew he deserved. His head knocked against the floor and his world spun as everything became raw.

The only thing he did was apologize from the floor, once the ghoul had worked himself out and simply sat on the couch as Gray’s blood began to soak into the wood.

“You promised me.” Hancock said, his voice slightly muffled as his face rested in his hands. “You're a fucking liar, Gray.”

“I didn’t have a choice, John.” Gray rasped. His ribs ached.

Hancock made eye contact through his fingers.

It poured out of him then, Danse being a synth, Maxson’s terms, the fact that his home was now uninhabitable because of politics, _everything_.

Hancock groaned. His knuckles oozed blood and he wiped it against the arm of the sofa. “I loved you.”

Desdemona’s final word haunted Gray's mind. “You loved my body.” He spat, remembering the once-overs.

“I wish.” The mayor replied.

Gray was silent again, save for his ragged breathing.

Hancock sighed. He got up and pulled Gray off of the floor, swearing with the effort. The mercenary hit the couch ungracefully and cried out as his ribs screamed from the disturbance.

Hancock picked up a Stimpack from the floor and jabbed it into his chest. Gray said nothing.

The ghoul took a hit of Jet.

“What do ya think of one last round?” He asked, his speech slightly slurred.

“Breathing still hurts and it’s been a long time.” Gray replied. He knew jetted Hancock. Hated him too.

Hancock smirked. “I know you like it rough.”

“I’m with someone.”

“So am I.”

“John, no.” Gray replied forcefully.

Hancock shrugged. “You’re lucky I prefer the title of ‘addict’ over ‘rapist’.”

Gray rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you try it.”

Hancock smiled. “Is that consent?”

“No.” Gray spat. His ribs throbbed, but the rest of him seemed to be coming around. His left eye had reversed its swelling and his vision was getting closer to its regular amount of fuzziness.

Hancock laughed dryly.

Gray held back the urge to continue the physical fighting. But he knew he was done, the weight in his gut was gone, replaced with pain on the outside, pain a Stimpack could heal and Med-X could mask.

The door was hit so hard that its hinges groaned. “OLLIE! What the _fuck_ is going on in there?!” MacCready screamed. 

A ghoulish voice yelled _"I told ya's so!"_

There was more commotion beyond the door and Hancock strode over to unlock it, then stepped backward swiftly. The second the resistance was gone, MacCready kicked it open as Neighborhood Watch made feeble attempts to restrain him. He noticed blood on the floor and a crazed light came into his eyes.

Before he could continue yelling Gray called over the din of Goodneighbor voices, “Creads, it’s fine.”

Robert clamped his jaw shut, but the protective anger stayed etched into the rest of his face.

Gray groaned as he stood, and carried a slight limp as he walked toward his companion, who wriggled within the grasp of three of Hancock’s pissed-off employees.

“Let him go.” The mayor said. The comedown from Jet had hit him and yet he didn’t immediately go for another hit. Part of him knew that he needed to be sober to process what had become of the Railroad. It was something Gray had advised long time ago, a pact between them that promised sobriety when dealing with their problems. The gleam of red plastic on his floor caught his eye, though.

“You sure?” One ghoul asked.

Hancock gave him the side-eye and he shrugged before letting go of MacCready.

The merc took a step away from them and dusted himself off, grumbling a few kid-friendly curses as he followed Gray down the stairs.

               “This place is near The Slog, yeah?” MacCready asked.

Gray nodded. His bruises had yellowed, and his ribs healed enough to no longer impede him in the hours following their departure from Goodneighbor. “You can crash there, I’m sure Wiseman would appreciate the extra gun.”

MacCready smiled. “Promise me you’ll take me out for a spin once in a while?”

Gray couldn’t help but get a slight grin of his own. “If you’re up for it.”

“Well, as usual, I owe you. The gun is worth it though.” The merc replied.

The sound of their footfalls filled the air for a while. Gray's face faded back into stone. 

“Gray?” MacCready asked.

“Yeah?” He replied, slightly unnerved by the use of his first name.

“You’re okay, right?” MacCready asked.

Gray simply shrugged.

 


	21. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray uses his words, and a few other things. // Explicit content ahead.

 

_XXI_

 

               Danse was surprised by a mouth on his neck this time.

A battered Gray had limped his way into the bunker, saying nothing other than “It went rough” when he was questioned about the state of his body as he focused on lasting long enough to wash himself and then sleep. Danse had picked up his discarded apparel and tossed it in a box to be washed in the morning before joining him after giving him space for a few hours. For once, Gray wasn’t pressed against the wall, which worried Danse as he took an unfamiliar place in bed.

He now guessed that sleep wasn’t what Gray was anticipating at the moment, as his half-hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Hello to you too.” Danse said quietly.

Gray exhaled a soft laugh and bit into the synth’s flesh hotly.

Danse smelled the hair that had fallen over his face and his hands gripped Gray’s waist.

“What happened.” He asked, despite the need to simply go with whatever Gray was doing.

Gray licked the sore indents his teeth had left. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Then I don’t want to do _this_ right now.” Danse replied.

Gray pulled away from his neck and wished he could see Danse’s face. “Fine, then.”

He rolled over and pressed his ass into Danse’s crotch. The synth’s brow furrowed.

“Gray, I know nobody from the Railroad did that to you. Close combat is your dominant area, and I’ve heard field reports over the radio. They fell like dominoes.” Danse said.

Gray smiled at the fact that Danse had tuned and modified the radio to get a Brotherhood signal and wondered how long it took him. Probably hours.

“Babe.” The former Paladin said softly. "Please, I know it was hard for you, but you can't just hold it in."

Gray’s chest was warm with the new word on Danse’s tongue, and then he was crying silently again, but the strain in his voice was evident as he told Danse everything.

His partner stayed quiet, occasionally kissing the back of his neck and rubbing up and down his side when his voice hitched on a hard detail or he let out a sob.

“I love you.” Gray said with a slight hiccup.

“I love you too.” Danse replied, gripping his hip a little harder. “And I missed you.”

The synth held onto him tighter and they shared a comfortable silence for some time before Gray began to move.

The man knew a fraction of what Danse was going through, what he was acclimating to every day in the listening post. A chapter of his life had closed, forever. But he didn’t want to worry about that as his partner’s excitement pressed against the ass that had started grinding against him.

“Are you still not interested?” Gray asked with a smirk. He knew the mood was shifting, and he wanted to forget everything for some time.

Danse pulled away slightly to relieve himself of the minor discomfort of squishing himself against muscle. Gray pressed back into him with his legs slightly apart and held his clothed cock between his thighs. He applied pressure and pressed his ass into Danse's front.

The synth’s hips snapped forward and he licked a line up Gray’s nape.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Gray said, separating himself and rolling over to work his way down Danse’s body once again.

Danse’s hands wound themselves into his hair and his brain conjured familiar images of last time, when he could see.

He groaned the mercenary’s name and pulled his hair a bit. Gray did the thing with his tongue that former partners adored and Danse pushed himself deeper into his throat.

Gray gagged slightly, but pushed himself the rest of the way and Danse pulled back. “A-are you sure you want it that deep?” He asked, blushing in spite of himself.

Gray replied by grabbing Danse’s ass and forcing him closer with a “ _mhm_ ” that sent a jolt of electricity through Danse’s body.

After a minute Danse pulled back and Gray swore at him out of surprise as the synth dragged his head up to eye-level and kissed him deeply while pulling at his thin sleepwear, in order to take both of their members into his hand. He couldn't cover all of their surface area, as Gray was average, and he was a noticeable amount above it.

“Danse you’re going to make a mess.” Gray warned as they separated to gasp for air.

He replied by picking up his pace and pulling the merc closer. Gray moaned and pressed his face into Danse’s neck to muffle it. Precum added to the slick coating both of them.

“ _Danse!”_ Gray cried. His voice had raised a few octaves and Danse couldn’t help but find it cute. Shallow shudders ran through his body and the burning muscle in his arm dissolved his pace as he held back, waiting for Gray to catch up.

The mercenary kissed him tenderly and groaned a question into his mouth, “ _Close?”_

“ _Yes._ ” Danse replied through his teeth.

Gray let out a high-pitched moan and released into the synth’s hand, his lover came onto his lower abdomen with a deep growl not long after. His sweaty hair stuck to both of their bodies as his head rested on Danse’s shoulder and they breathed in unison.

Gray snuggled closer to him, their spent flesh throbbed together for a moment before Danse let go of it and pulled away the blanket. The contrast of the night air made Gray shiver, but he followed Danse to get clean. He was lulled by the hum of the water purifier as his hands worked lazily with the dishrag, despite the bone-chilling water.

When they finally settled into their regular spots, Gray kissed the back of the synth’s neck and his arm wormed around his waist. Danse leaned back into him and sighed happily. Warmth returned to them finally.

The synth was no longer Paladin Danse to Gray, the harsh sponsor that kept him in line while sending mixed signals, he was simply Danse. The Danse that was in his arms, and would stay at his side. The Danse that cared deeply about his state of mind, the Danse that he could trust. The Danse he had saved.

The mercenary was no longer a source of insecurity to Danse, no longer a selfish indulgence. Gray was his, and he was Gray's. The marks on his neck would finally be sported with pride, he would finally have some semblance of control over his emotions. He had him, the man who would always return to him, the man that went to relationship-shattering lengths to keep him safe.  The man that had saved, and would keep saving, him.


	22. The Boogeyman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Institute does what it does best // This chapter contains a mention of CSA (Childhood Sexual Abuse), and its presence is noted before the paragraph in which it occurs. The act itself is attempted, and not a graphic depiction of rape, but I feel it still deserves a warning.

_  
XXII_

_“MacCready groaned and rolled his shoulder. “Dang Ollie, you couldn’t have been a little softer?”_

_“Well, I could have also let the thing blow you to bits. Not my fault you forgot that Sentry Bots explode.” Gray replied, picking a bit of shrapnel out of his cheekbone._

_“Now isn’t the time for banter. We still have to get the agitator out of here in one piece.” Ingram said._

_The elevator ride was interrupted by another explosion, MacCready gripped Gray and Ingram swore under her breath._

_She turned to the Paladin “It seems that the Institute sent reinforcements. Luckily for us, I think our boys are here too. I want the agitator out of here, don’t get caught up in the fight. There’s a Vertibird outside for you if everything went to plan.”_

_He nodded._

The memories played over and over in his head. Everything after that was a blank, his head pounded, and the darkness of the room kept him disoriented.

He knew the scent of the Institute. The scent of hoarded goods and hypocrisy.

“Apollon.” Father’s voice boomed over the speakers. “You’re a hard man to track down.”

Gray didn’t reply.

“You’ve stolen two things from us now. But what can we take from you?” Father asked.

A chunk of ice formed in Gray’s gut. He didn’t like where this was going.

“You’re a thief, Gray Apollon. Thieves deserve punishment.”

Then he noticed a different smell, and felt the cold bite of a blade resting on his skin.

                _“Dad?” He asked, tugging on the hem of the man’s shirt._

_“Mhm?” His father replied, turning his attention away from the dishes and toward his young son._

_“What’s a Brotherhood of Steel?” Gray asked, holding up a rusted holotag. “I found it in the water.”_

_His father gently took it from his hand. His thumb rubbed over the soldier’s name for a moment. “Hopefully something you’ll never know.” He grumbled, tucking them into his pocket._

_“Is it something bad?” Gray asked._

_“Go fetch Camille, dinner’s almost ready.” He replied sternly, turning back around._

_"What is the Brotherhood of Steel?” He asked again._

_Kellogg whirled around in place of his father. “The fuck does it matter, shrimp? You take care of that guard or I’ll be dragging one extra body.” He whispered angrily._

_Gray stumbled over his suddenly much longer legs out of surprise. A heavy pack caught his fall. The house was gone, there was only a misted forest and a pissed off mercenary in front of him._

_“Huh?” A raider asked the air from somewhere above. They were against the wall of a shack with seemingly nothing around it._

_Kellogg swore under his breath and glared at Gray before dispatching her with a silenced shot. Gray stumbled back to his feet. Kellogg decked him in the jaw._

_He went back down hard, hitting his head on the shack’s siding. This had been his first time out in the field, serving as Kellogg's pack mule._

               “I’m telling you, I know what the hell it is!” MacCready shouted.

“Cade, just listen to him!” Kidman said. She had been the one to witness the teleportation flare, the one to bring Gray to medical alongside an escort of Knights as he spoke incoherently and clutched her arm tightly. His left ear was gone, the wound still bled as she spoke softly to him. She had talked herself out of his clutch, but he still stared at her and only calmed when she kept a hand on his shoulder.

Cade looked to MacCready as he wrapped the Paladin’s head. “Then speak.” He snapped.

“Hallucigen. The gas, it makes you crazy. I’ve seen it before, when I ran with the Gunners, they looked just like this, but less… stable. I heard that synths were poking around the old building, but I never thought they’d actually be able to do anything with the stuff.” MacCready said. His hand stayed firmly planted on Gray’s thigh.

“Is it permanent?” Cade asked.

“Am I trying to gnaw your face off right now?” MacCready replied venomously. He was wound tight. He’d watched the Institute take his companion as he clutched the agitator and could do nothing but run.

“Sir.” Kidman said. “Relax. Gray is tough.” She rested her fingers gently on his bicep.

He stared at her for a moment. She was beautiful and reminded him of someone else. His throat caught for a second.

Cade opened his mouth to say something but MacCready talked first. “No, it’s not. But it flips your memories around. Drags up the repressed ones in all their glory, sometimes in a jumbled mess or with extra nightmarish qualities. That type of shit fucks you up for a while.” MacCready added calmly. Her hand fell back to his side and a concerned smile went his way instead.

Maxson walked through the doorway. “What have they done to him?” He asked Cade heatedly.

“Cut off his left ear. The canal seems okay, so he shouldn’t lose all function. Also, they introduced some sort of hallucinogenic, this one,” he gestured at MacCready, “says it’s going to tear up his psyche, but the current effects will not last.” The Knight-Captain stepped away from his patient to scribble some things down on his report. “His vitals are stable without a Stimpack and I’ve introduced some light sedatives.”

“Scribe Kidman, why are you present?” The Elder asked.

“I was the one who found him, sir. It was by teleportation, they put him here on purpose.” She replied. “This is a message.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He stayed like that for a bit.

“Elder Maxson?” Cade asked.

He removed his hand and stood up a bit straighter. “Kidman, return to your post. They seem to have it covered here. Ad Victoriam, Scribe.”

 “Ad Victoriam, sir.” She replied curtly.

Cade pushed a chair toward MacCready when she turned down the hall.

 “Thanks.” The merc said. “And I’m sorry for being a dick earlier. You’re a good doctor.”

“For that, you can stay with your friend.” Cade said with a smirk.  MacCready swallowed and felt a bit threatened, before the doctor laughed light-heartedly and added “I’m kidding, with what he’s going through I’m happy to assign a watchman.”

MacCready simply turned back to Gray and rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand.

**TRIGGER WARNING!!**

THIS FLASHBACK CONTAINS THE  ** _ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT_**  OF A MINOR. IF THAT IS A TRIGGER FOR YOU, PROCEED TO THE “ **END OF WARNED CONTENT** ” NOTE, LOCATED AT THE END OF THE FOLLOWING ITALICIZED SECTION.

                _His thighs ached as he sat back on his calves. His face stung from a slap, adding to the pain of the ropes digging into his wrists and ankles. Someone’s fingers gripped his short hair and their knuckles were hot on his scalp. He hadn’t wanted to be the distraction, their contractor specifically stated that the guy they were after liked kids._

_“My real question is, how the hell did you get such nice shit?” The raider in front of him asked. A crazed look was in his eyes, Jet._

_Gray spat near his shoe. His head was yanked backward by his hair, exposing his throat. The dark eyes looked up and down the maturing protrusion of an Adam’s apple and the soft but indicative lines leading to his rounded collarbone. He was fifteen._

_“This one’s somethin’. Did you mouth your way to that rifle?” The man asked._

_Gray grimaced and said nothing. He fought the urge to glance at the door, lest he give away the fact that the rest of the raiders were being tactically slaughtered as they spoke._

_At least, he hoped they were._

_The one holding his scalp tensed up and grumbled a half-hearted “Knit, man, c’mon.”_

_“Open him up for me.” Knit rasped._

_There was a pause._

_“Now!” He demanded._

_A new pair of hands pried his mouth open._ “At least three”  _Gray thought._

_Knit fumbled with his pants while musing about the quality of the boy’s teeth. He held himself for a moment while the hands around Gray’s lower jaw took on a slight shake._

_The flesh got so close that the boy could smell it, so close that it brushed against his bottom lip before Knit’s head exploded and the stench and spray of blood overtook all. The people behind him jumped to their feet and he slid onto his side, facing his would-be rapist. He looked everywhere but down._

_Two more bodies added to the copper-y tinge in the air._

_A knife cut the bonds on his hands and feet as he pushed himself off of the floor shakily before vomiting on his hands and knees._

_Kellogg pulled him back into a sitting position before he could fall into it, and searched the pockets of his attackers. “You did good, scavver. You’re a great diversion, no flinching either. Sorry about not arriving a few seconds sooner.”_

_Gray washed the bile his mouth out with water, concentrating on the “you did good” and “I’m sorry”._

**END OF WARNED CONTENT**

               “You’re okay, Ollie.” MacCready said softly. He was used to comforting the sick.

The Paladin flinched violently in his sleep again.

“Don’t wake him up.” Cade warned. “We don’t know how stable he is, he could still exhibit violence.”

MacCready nodded and held back the urge to say that he was fully aware of that fact.

“How’s he doing?” Shad asked from the doorway. MacCready looked him up and down out of habit.

“He’s stable, you can come in.” Cade said.

Shad extended his good arm to the new face. “Hi, I’m Lancer-initiate Fredrick Shad. I’m here to check in on the Paladin, Ingram’s worried sick.” He said lightheartedly.

“Robert J MacCready.” He replied, taking his hand firmly. 

“Kidman told me what you said, is there anything you guys need?” Shad asked.

“Who is Danse?” MacCready asked. “He keeps mumbling their name.”

Cade stilled in his writing for a moment. Shad looked to the doctor silently before saying, “Danse was a Paladin before, and sponsor to, Apollon. He was a damn good soldier. That was, before we found out that he was a synth. Regardless of their strong bond, Elder Maxson made Apollon kill him.” 

“Watch your tone, Lancer-initiate.” Cade warned. “You’re already on thin ice.”

Shad pulled up a chair and sat next to MacCready.

“Doesn’t Proctor Ingram want you back?” Cade asked.

“I’m on break for the next half hour.” Shad shot back.

Cade rolled his eyes.

“So how do you know him?” MacCready asked, trying to deescalate.

“Kidman, Danse, him, and I went to the Glowing Sea on an op together for about a week. It went fine until a glowing Deathclaw ambushed us and ripped off my arm. It almost tore Apollon’s head off. That was when Kidman switched over to be a scribe and I was put under Captain Kells.” He explained.

“Both of you were a damn handful. Your head injuries almost put you out for good, Initiate, I don’t know what I would’ve done if Scribe Kidman didn’t have previous medical training.” Cade said.

Shad smiled. “Her parents ran a surgery back in the Capital Wasteland, we were acquaintances before basic.”

“I’m from there too.” MacCready said. “Ran Little Lamplight for a time.”

“ _That’s_  why your name sounds so familiar!” Shad exclaimed, slapping his back lightly.

MacCready tried not to think about home. He yawned.

"Yknow, if you'd like I can take over watching Gray. You don't look too hot, MacCready." Shad said lightly.

"Well, a battle with a bunch of synths, a kidnapping, and a poisoned friend tend to tire me out a bit." MacCready replied, equally as friendly.

They both looked toward Cade hopefully.

The doctor simply replied, "If Ingram allows it." 

Ten minutes later MacCready was snoring softly in Shad's bunk.


	23. Eggshells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray is struggling.

__

_XXIII_

 

               _He kicked the door open, the chill of the merc’s words still clinging to his mind._

_He shot at Kellogg’s leg, but Danse lunged at him._

_They hit the ground hard, both punching despite Gray's falling on thick armor._

_Kellogg laughed. “You think that a synth would turn against a man of the Institute?”_

_His hand scraped against the cold metal of Danse’s helmet. The same metal enveloped the fingers that wrapped around his neck. He choked out anything he could think of. He kicked wildly at Danse as his world darkened and a strangled scream left his throat._

               Gray sat up and gripped his throat to make sure there weren’t hands there anymore. He coughed despite not sustaining real injury, and shook violently as phantom pain faded.

Danse knew what the hands around his neck meant, and he slid out of bed to give him space. The dream had been about him.

He had arrived home four days later than what had been anticipated when he initially made way to Mass Fusion, with more than just an ear missing. He was cold, inattentive. The only thing Gray had said to him that day was a short summary of what had happened, his voice catching on the part about the gas.

The synth held out a coffee mug of water, which Gray took with as much confidence as he could muster. He drank the whole thing, and handed back the cup, which Danse placed on the desk near the head of their bed.

“It’s not your fault.” Gray said.

“It’s not yours either.” Danse replied, sitting down on the floor.

Gray opened his mouth, but closed it again. They could go back and forth for hours about who started the butterfly effect that led them to the present. As a matter of fact, they already had.

“Can I come back?” Danse asked.

“Please.” Gray said meekly. This surprised the synth.

Danse lied back down, leaving space between him and his partner. He remembered the first time Gray had awoken like this, mad at him and the world. He had slapped away Danse’s hand, screamed “ _Get the fuck away from me!”_ , and broke Danse’s heart completely.

Gray shifted closer after a little while, and exhaled shakily into the synth’s chest. Danse kept his hands directly below the Paladin’s ribs, unwilling to get anywhere near his neck. Even the day before, Gray hadn’t allowed himself to be touched.

“They’re getting more twisted.” Gray said. “It’s making them a little less real.”

Danse simply rested his chin on the top of his head. Gray knew why he was tiptoeing around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

Elder Maxson had given Gray some time off to recover at home, knowing that the Paladin kept asking for his allegedly-dead sponsor. He was due to report back in two weeks.

“We need to get up, don’t we?” Gray asked rhetorically.

Danse nodded. “I can go, if you’d like.”

Maxson had received the reports of the unidentified and mute “mercenary” that accompanied Gray on his non-Brotherhood business and had made it known to the Paladin before his temporary discharge. _“I told them that we’ve met, and he is an ally. Nothing will change as long as he stays silent and unknown.”_

“But I’m better with the rifle.” Gray said with a slight smirk.

A morning mist had overtaken the Commonwealth. Radstags grazed in a dewy field alongside the birds that pecked at the dry earth, unaware of the two rifle barrels pointed at them from opposite sides.

The first shot hit the doe cleanly through both heads, and a second severed the jugular of the stag’s left neck. It stumbled for a moment, before a third shot downed it in the same manner as the doe.

Gray rose from his stomach and walked to help Danse quickly butcher the meat in the place they fell.

The sound of alloyed steel on flesh brought a slight bit of bile to Gray’s throat, but being able to look over and see Danse’s concentrated face brought him back to the present. The fact that his companion had to think about where to cut showed how he hadn’t had to hunt for his own food during his time in the Brotherhood. And that fact amused the Paladin.

Gray finished first, and cut the thigh meat up into strips for jerky while his partner finished up and dragged the corpses into a ditch to cover them with some hacked-off brambles. The last thing they wanted was to attract attention from the local wildlife.

A bird cawed at them from a high branch as they walked by. The bags of meat were slung over Danse’s power-armored shoulder and Gray was leading the way back to the bunker when he stopped and looked up at it.

“What?” Danse asked, his one-track mind had already heard and ruled out the bird as a threat.

Gray picked up a rock. He rolled it around in his hands for a bit as the bird continued its call. “Watch this.”

In the blink of an eye he cocked his arm back and hurled the rock into the bird’s side. An almost-comical ejection of feathers accompanied an indignant squawk.

Gray stalked over to where it lay and picked it up. He ended its pain with a snap of its neck and tossed the bird, as the meager amount of meat wasn’t worth the plucking and skinning.

“When did you get so skilled at throwing rocks?” Danse asked.

“Birds can give away your location.” He replied.

The reason was simple. The implications of why it had ever come to Gray's mind were not.

               Gray was curled against the arm of their chewed-up sofa, reading a more-or-less undamaged book, and Danse was staring. But, after all those months of second-guessing himself and looking away constantly, he let himself _keep_ staring.

He let himself focus on the stormy irises that moved back and forth at a regular pace behind the rarely-seen lenses of eyeglasses. The way his brows moved in regard to whatever happened in the story, the few loose strands of hair that he hadn’t bothered to fight into his small and messy bun, the way his legs were drawn up close to his body.

Danse stood up from the table where his partner’s new rifle was half-cleaned and sat down next to him. His arm wormed its way behind the man’s back and he pressed his cheek against his shoulder.

Gray shifted into his touch and rolled his eyes with a smile when he went to turn the page and the synth said that he wasn’t done yet. They stayed like that for a long time, pressed together while Danse read with Gray and tried to ask as few questions as possible.

The whole situation was domestic, about as normal as they could have it. It was what awaited them after the fall of the Institute.

But yet, Gray was no longer whole. He was closer to a slowly-filling shell of himself. Something broken that everyone tried to glue back together, but few knew how the pieces actually fit. The day after he got home all he could do was modify the Gauss rifle he’d meant to start on weeks earlier and smoke.

Danse’s stomach grumbled. “Should we have Mirelurk tonight?”

“Do we have softshell?” Gray asked, looking up from the pages.

“I’ll check the coolers.” Danse said, detangling himself from Gray. They kept their food coolers in a dug-out hole in the wall near the water for maximum shelf life.

 He returned with a few containers and said “We have enough for a pasta. Let’s use up these noodles before they go bad.”

Gray agreed, and to Danse’s surprise went to work cutting the softshell meat into somewhat-even bits as Danse re-heated the noodles and ground dried Bloodleaf into a seasoning.

“Danse?” The Paladin asked, looking behind his back to where Danse stood at the stove.

“Yes?”

“I know I’m not handling this as smoothly as I could be. I know that everyone we know has terrible memories and scars, and even I carried all this without issue. I just can’t carry it all at once, at least not right now.” He admitted.

Danse was going to say something reassuring, but Gray didn’t give him an opening. “Having you with me is making it much easier.”

Danse paused for a moment. “I got to let most of my bad memories go. If I had to deal with all of the things I try to forget all at once, I doubt I’d fare better than you. I think you’re doing just fine.”

               The synth’s words stuck in Gray’s head as his fingers traced hearts onto his shoulder blade. He was awake, insomnia reared its head despite his cure snoring softly.

Danse didn’t think he was being dramatic, didn’t hint that he resented him at all. The same Danse that had slapped him awake in a pool of his own blood six months earlier was now telling him that he was doing fine, even if he wasn’t.

His eyes felt heavy, but when he closed them they itched. He stared at the cracks in the wall opposite them. They reminded him of Cambridge, of nights spent there because he’d just returned from whatever trek out to fetch something for Haylen or clear an area for Rhys.

They also reminded him of Red Rocket, nights spent wondering when Maxson would send for them and if Danse was thinking or dreaming about him.

Nights in a fortified shell of a building watching Kellogg sleep and wondering if he was going to eat the next day.

Frankly, they reminded him of most places. And that was the problem.


	24. Changing the Setting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray needs some fresh air and new obsessions.

 

_XXIV_

 

               “Frankly, I hate water.” Danse said. He stood in the exact center of the deck with his arms crossed. Gray had made him take off his power armor and store it in a tied-down crate, in case he managed to fall overboard.

Gray tossed some extra rope to his feet. “Put that in the cabin.”

Convincing Elder Maxson that Far Harbor was in need of someone to scout it out seemed dicey, but throwing in that it would probably help his state of mind ad would even the score with Nick made it simple.

_“I give you two weeks off, and you come back with a new assignment for yourself? Lucky for you, Ingram and Liberty Prime could use some extra time together. ”_

“Do you even know how to captain a ship?” Danse asked cynically. Gray didn’t seem excited outwardly, but the small spring in his step didn’t escape the synth’s eye.

“This is a boat, and it has a self-steering GPS. I know the basics of everything else; my father took me fishing a few times.” Gray replied painlessly.

He joined Danse in the cabin and set up the navigation system. They jolted forward and Danse gripped the doorway he had been leaning in with a mumbled curse.

Gray looked back at him with a smirk and sat back into a chair. “Get comfy, this is a three-to-five-day trip.”

Danse groaned.

               Gray’s thumb rubbed against a spot he knew was sensitive and Danse flinched to alertness as a spark traveled up to his throat. His lover’s breath was hot on his neck and his hands were cool in his pants.

The cabin was big enough for both of them, but they had pressed together with a few blankets on the floor. Gray’s upper back flushed against the navigation system and Danse faced the open doorway as they coasted smoothly along the water.

“Don’t.” Danse said softly.

Gray kissed the back of his neck and pressed more of Danse’s buttons.

The synth let himself lean into Gray and revel in the warmth of his partner against him. But still, his actions caused for some reflection. It was a glimpse into his mindset, something that the man had kept hidden since his psyche was ravaged by the Institute. All he did was tell Danse when it was okay to be with him and to avoid the topic of what happened in his head.

“Are you sure you won’t drag up anything that doesn’t need to be dragged up?” He asked, unsure of where it was going to go. He hadn’t thought of trying anything, they hadn’t even truly kissed since Gray’s return, and now he was priming him for something they'd never done before.

“I need to face it. All of it.” Gray replied quietly. He smeared a bead of precum down the length of the synth’s member.

“Why is your name Gray?” Danse asked.

This was an easy question. “My eyes. My father’s were hazel and my mother’s were green, they weren’t expecting it.”

His hand continued to dull Danse’s focus, and the synth turned around and abruptly pulled Gray on top of him. The paladin was surprised but didn’t say anything. His hands simply moved to Danse’s chest despite the fact that his attention stayed with the flesh that pressed against his rear.

Danse’s fingers pressed lightly into his hips. “What is my favorite color?”

“Red. Mine?” Gray replied.

“Light blue. Your favorite season is winter. Your favorite song is “I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire”. You hate it when I eat too quickly but find my occasional hiccups adorable. You’re Gray Apollon and you still have the same body and mind.” Danse said. “You don’t have to test that.”

Gray’s eyes narrowed, and he sat up. “It’s not that simple. You got to discard your entire childhood. You know that half the fucked-up shit that happened to you wasn’t real, and you still have your repressed memories. I _don’t_ Danse!” He shouted suddenly, “Everything bad that has happened to me won’t fade! It won’t go away, it just gets more twisted and I relive it almost every time I sleep.” He sobbed. “I hate that it makes me feel this way, that it makes me feel so _weak_.”

His lover’s hand moved to wipe a tear off of his face, but he looked away. “I’m sorry that I can’t work through it quickly, it just _hurts_.” He added, ashamed of his outburst.

“It’s not that simple for me either. My life is a lie, Gray. I have nothing that I know for sure happened, except for you. You’re here, and you happened, and you’re the best thing that’s happened.” The synth said calmly, despite the mist in his eyes. “It’s over. You’re here. You don’t need to try and face it all so fast.”

They sized each other up for a moment. “MacCready said that for him they got more infrequent after he took some time off.” Gray sighed. “I’m really hoping that it’ll be the same for me.”

Danse smiled a little. “Suddenly, I’m more excited for this trip.”

Gray wiped the water from the corners of the synth’s eyes. “You’re right. You could’ve left me, could’ve kicked me out of the bunker and let me drown in myself, but you didn’t. You stayed with me, helped me through all of it while I bit the hand that fed me because in my head the hand was a fist.”

“Because I love you. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you.” Danse replied. “I tried to keep it in, but that’s the good thing about the truth. It brought me to you. You showed me that I wanted to live, and now it’s my turn to tell you that you need to let yourself heal.”

Gray leaned forward to his elbows on the floor on either side of Danse’s head.

“You like spring. You’ve never told me, but I bet your favorite song is “Uranium Fever” because it’s the only song I’ve ever seen you tap your foot to,” he paused to think for a moment before smiling, “and you hate the fact that I never wear power armor, but I know you’d miss looking at my ass.”

“Not true.” Danse mumbled, holding back a grin of his own. "Your safety is more important than my arousal."

“You’re Danse, _my_ Danse, and you’re much more patient than when I first met you.” Gray said, pressing their lips together.

               Gray’s heart skipped a beat when the first signs of their destination peaked over the horizon. Danse finally put his power armor back on and felt much more at home.

The bickering two that they met at the docks were not nearly as pleased. Night had fallen by the time they made landfall, and the temperature had dropped somewhat.

“I wasn't expecting nobody. Next shipment's three days out…Wait. That's not one of mine.” The man spat, aiming a rifle as their boat eased to a stop.

The woman glared at him. “Jesus. Ease up, Allen. We got visitors.”

“Mainlanders ain't nothing but trouble.” He rasped.

“I can be trouble if you don’t put the gun down.” Gray said with an edge that Danse hadn’t seen for some time. His foot rested on the lip of the boat, a sign that he meant to come ashore but hadn’t out of respect. A sign he hoped they’d understand.

“Is that a threat?” Allen asked, anxious for one reason to open fire.

“Like waving that in his face isn’t? Put the damned gun down.” She said sternly.

They exchanged glances before footsteps on the wood of the dock caught their attention. “Dammit. Mariner's incoming.” He grumbled.

A younger woman yelled to them, “Something’s coming through the fog!”

“State your business or I shoot you where you stand, we have bigger fish to fry than you right now.” Allen said.

“A young woman from the Commonwealth named Kasumi may have passed through here. Her family hired me to find her,” Gray paused for a moment, “and I’m also here to help you fry those fish in exchange for allowance into the harbor.”

Ashmaker swung into Danse’s hands and the red light emanating from his visor only added to his classic intimidation. Avery looked to Allen, he shook his head.

“Take a post at the top of the wall near the main gate, if you survive, you get answers.” Avery said sternly, pulling out her own weapon. “Follow me!”

Gray outpaced her easily and found his own way up onto the hull, the Gauss rifle caught the eyes of a few harbormen before a group came rushing through the fog.

“Open up the gate! We’ve got wounded down here!” One shouted.

“There’s no time, look at the fog, _they’re coming_.” Mariner hissed.

Gulpers charged through the fog as if on cue, and Gray dispatched one as Danse opened fire on the pack.

A mine to his left exploded and Gray turned to see a group of Anglers join in on the fray as the survivors fired potshots. He looked to his partner and hesitated for a moment.

“Danse! Get down there and help them up, I’ll cover you.” He ordered.

“Are you sure that’s a good— “Trust me.” Gray said, cutting him off.

Danse saw the resolve on his face and promptly jumped. He had no doubts about being able to handle himself, but wasn’t sure if it was the right choice if he didn't want to be sore the next day.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Mariner yelled, not taking her eyes off her target.

“Saving your people!” Gray replied over the gunfire.

Danse took a knee and motioned for the survivor that looked at him to get on his shoulders as the Angler that was rushing her lost its head to a 2mm EC.

She obliged, and Gray crouched to grab her forearm and pull her up while still looking to the fog.

A harborman took her arm as well and kicked Gray away lightly. “Keep him covered.”

Gray turned back and finished off a final Angler as a cry sounded from somewhere deeper in the fog, silencing all of them as someone else scrabbled up onto the hull.

“ _Shit._ ” Mariner hissed. “Hey, how many rounds do you two have left?”

“Seventy-seven for the rifle.” Gray replied.

“About Nine-hundred!” Danse called up.

“You’re gonna need them. Fog Crawler!” She announced.

“Jesus, man, help me up!” one of the final survivors pleaded as his counterpart stared at the slow-moving shadow in the fog.

“Get down.” Danse replied gruffly, slinging the minigun back into his hands.

Gray held his breath as the arrowhead skull pierced the mist. There was silence as he charged his shot. The creature was still, nobody fired, both sides were sizing each other up.

Then he put a hole through the creature’s left arm and it rushed forward as all hell broke loose.

Danse aimed for the legs but it was too quick for the rounds to be crippling.  It jabbed him into the hull, which shook violently. He didn’t stop firing, though, and the _pitter-patter_ of gunfire was interrupted by another cartridge lodging itself into the creature’s neck.

Blood rained down lightly and Danse aimed up despite the pain in his upper body. The Fog Crawler staggered backward and then jumped up to smash into the ground. Its already-damaged arm severed from the force.

Danse was thrown back against the hull and let go of the trigger as he slumped to the ground. The survivors were thrown too, smashing against the hull with cries of pain. Gray fell to a knee as others were thrown backward and shot the creature in the head as it raised its remaining arm to strike once more.

It slumped and crashed against the ground dramatically as Gray shouldered his rifle and jumped to the ground with a cry of his lover’s name as orders were yelled behind him.

The synth groaned as his helmet was removed. Gray’s fingers found a pulse and then pulled a Stimpack from a pocket on his thigh. As he directed it toward Danse’s neck, the larger man grasped it softly. “I’m fine, go give it to her.” He rasped, looking to the bleeding harborwoman behind them.

Gray looked into his eyes and saw the pain but stood up quickly to assess the other wounded.

Danse sat for a moment, feeling the adrenaline fade and pain set in. He then braced himself against the soaked wood and pushed himself back to his feet. His fingers worked on adjusted the strap so the minigun was pulled onto his back and then replaced his helmet. He turned to the other survivor to find a doctorly man already tending to him.

“Take her back to the surgery, Allen will show you the way!” The man called to Gray, who was carrying the woman already.

“Allow me.” Danse said as they started walking.

“You’re hurt. I got her.” Gray replied.

Allen’s eyes shifted to them regularly as they walked, as Gray lowered her into a makeshift cot, he finally spoke. “Fire your gun a few times and you think you're some sort of hero? This is our fight, our island, not yours.”

“I get that you’re very proud, but I don’t feel like having a dick measuring contest right now.” Gray spat.

Danse glared at him.

“Listen to me, asshole, what happens next time when you ain't here, huh? Or the next? Either us Harbormen survive on our own terms, or we take the Long Walk together. Simple as that, Mainlander. It’s not about whose got more guns or balls.” Allen shot back.

“It’s not about me trying to impress you either, I got my business here, you got yours. I need answers from Avery. I found my leverage, and I used it. That’s on her.” Gray replied.

“You just don't understand— “Allen, shoo.” Avery said, appearing almost out of nowhere. “Stop hassling people that save your customers.”

He opened his mouth to continue but thought better of it and stalked off while staring daggers at Avery.

“You're here for Kasumi, right? She headed inland to the synth refuge, Acadia. You’re going to need a guide, I recommend Old Longfellow. He’ll be at The Last Plank.” She said.

The synth refuge itself was cause for concern. Of course, Gray had told Danse about it, but nothing had been said to Elder Maxson. Gray wanted to scope everything out first, and after all, synths were his soft spot. Danse hadn’t said much back as of yet, he had told himself that all synths were different from him, but a group of Institute-separated ones made things complicated.

“Thank you.” Gray said. “By the way, I’m Gray, he’s Danse.”

“It doesn’t matter what your names are, as long as you’re saving my people, you’re welcome here.” Avery replied.

Gray couldn’t help but smile softly as he walked by her to find The Last Plank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a hot minute since I posted anything and I apologize. I know, Far Harbor is a step in an odd direction, but I feel it works with Gray's current state.


	25. Abrasions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse's pain tolerance doesn't translate into patience. Gray reveals an internal conflict regarding his abduction.

 

_XXV_

               Danse inhaled through his teeth as Gray’s fingers found his bruises. “You didn’t tell me they were this bad.” The Paladin cooed.  
“Well, I rather you to tend to the civilians than me. The support of the locals is necessary for this operation.” The synth replied.

“I thought there was The Brotherhood and then everyone else. Nothing in-between.” Gray said, pressing the cold beer Mitch had given him to Danse’s purpling cheekbone. He knew the synth wouldn’t take Med-X or a Stimpack for his injuries.

“I’m in-between.” Danse replied matter-of-factly. “Not of the Institute, not of the Brotherhood. Yet somehow hailing from both.”

“So, what do we do about Acadia?” Gray asked. “They’re not of the Institute either, and technically still a secret.”

“A secret you shouldn’t be keeping. If you don’t alert Elder Maxson of their confirmed existence once we get back to the mainland, it could be considered treason.” Danse spat, pushing away Gray’s hand and grabbing the bottle himself.

Gray recoiled. “I know. But maybe I don’t agree with his ‘kill all synths and ghouls’ policy, alright?”

“If you do not tell him, I will find a way to.” Danse threatened coldly.

“I killed my friends for the Brotherhood. I lost my ear and my peace of mind, _for the Brotherhood_. If you think I would throw all that away for a few people I’ve never met, you obviously don’t know me.” Gray said venomously.

“They’re not people.” Danse replied coldly. “They’re abominations. Just like me, and just like your ghoul mayor.”

“ _My_ ghoul mayor?” Gray asked rhetorically.

“Your fuck-buddy, yes.” Danse replied angrily.

Gray wanted to punch him then. Danse saw it in his eyes, and almost braced for the hit, but instead, his partner got up and left the rented room with a slam of the door.

He shouldn’t have brought up Hancock that bluntly. He knew what had happened between him and Gray, but the pain in his ribs had brought him to his boiling point quickly.

Gray was young, volatile, freshly mentally ravaged, and now out of Danse’s reach. And the still-angry synth simply laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Hey!” Someone called to Gray as he approached the back door of The Last Plank.

The Paladin stopped and turned with his hand on the knob, knowing the voice wasn’t his companion's.

“Appreciate the help, mainlander. You and the metal guy saved me and my friends.” He said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Avery gave me enough in return. Your debt was paid.” Gray said coolly.

“Avery and the others were just doing their jobs, but you... you ain't one of us. I owe you personally. Here.” He said, handing Gray a bottle of vodka.

The familiar label cut into him. “Thank you.” He said, unscrewing the cap.

“Why don’t you sit and tell us your sorrows?” Mitch asked, drying the inside of a glass. “I doubt anyone’s sleeping too well after the attack, the only thing you’re going to do stomping around out there is piss ‘em off.”

Gray lit himself a cigarette as he sat down. “I’m not going first.”

Mitch smirked. “Alright Jared, give him your spiel.”

“They left us out there to die. If Avery thinks I’ll keep risking my neck for supply runs while she doesn’t even try to put out ladders, she’s lost her damn mind.  Damn this Fog. Damn this whole island. I'm heading back to the mainland on the first boat I can catch, Far Harbor can fend for itself.” Jared said groggily.

“I’d agree, but I’m not the type to turn and run. I’m facing my death with a belly full of fire.” Mitch replied. “Now, stranger, are you gonna give us the story behind that hole you call an ear? Ha!”

Gray tensed.

“Mitch, don’t be an ass. That’s obviously fresh, you don’t ask about fresh wounds. Were you raised by Trappers?” Jared snapped.

“Aye, that depends on who you ask!” Mitch retorted with an infectious laugh. “Now, if you want my professional opinion, you need to get your power-armored pal a _harpoon_ gun. Those 5mm rounds, flaming or not, won’t stop shit. Ha!”

The bottom of Gray’s bottle tapped the warped wood of the bar and he simply smiled. “Thanks for the tidbit. Makes up for the ear comment.”

Jared smirked, and Mitch rolled his eyes.

“So, what brings you down here, really?” Jared pried. “We heard the slamming door.”

“Boy trouble?” Mitch teased.

“You could call it that.” Gray replied around smoke. “I really don’t want to go much further into it.”

“I have another question, then.” Jared said. “What brings you to this hellhole?”

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to hide your bodies. And I’m not looking to get kicked out of the place where I dock my boat.” Gray said coldly.

They were quiet for a moment.

“Way to kill a mood, there.” Mitch said, unimpressed by the threat. The mainlander had proved himself capable of killing Anglers but didn’t seem like the civilian-murdering type.

“I should get to going, this is turning into an angry drunk sort of night.” Gray said in leu of an actual apology. “Thanks for the liquor and advice.”

Mitch waved him off deftly. “Keep the make-up sex quiet, alright?” He joked.

Jared laughed quietly as Gray rolled his eyes and trashed the almost full vodka bottle before he walked up the stairs.

               The depression in the bed next to his knee awoke Danse from his pitifully light sleep. The fabric of Gray’s uniform contrasted with his own in the pale moonlight.

“Do you remember when you first knew?” Gray asked the air, unsure if the synth was sleeping or not. “Because I remember when I realized that I was in fucking love with you.”

There was a pause.

Danse didn’t move. He kept breathing slowly and staring at the back of Gray’s head as his partner stared at the door.

“It was in the Glowing Sea, when we hunkered down in that factory after talking to the Children of Atom. When you and Talia just _had_ to take that first sleeping shift. When I stared at Fredrick and it wasn’t the same way I stared at you. He was just a body, the same way you were back at Cambridge. Someone that I could maybe have a one-night stand with and then never talk to the same way again. Someone I could trust enough to watch my back and not much else. He wasn’t the person I wanted to touch in more than just a sexual way. The person I found myself seeking regardless of what was happening. Even when I watched his arm get torn off, I knew that I had to kill that thing not because of what it had done to him, but what it could do to you.” Gray said.

There was more silence.

Danse propped himself up on his elbows, causing Gray to jump a little. Their eyes met, which almost made his words catch in his throat as he thought out his sentences.

“It started the night we stayed over in Goodneighbor. You know the one, the one where you left me alone for... him.” He said. “I knew I shouldn’t have been jealous. I knew you weren’t mine, that I had no right to claim you in any way. The night I knew that you had slept with and were sleeping with a ghoul and I knew that it didn’t bother me. Knowing that I wanted you despite what you had done, that was the start of it. When I knew I was a… When they told me at the Sentinel site. I fought them, Gray. I fought because I _needed_ to stay alive for you. But while I waited at the bunker I let myself think, let myself realize that I was a traitor and worth less than my man-made flesh. Then you came and saved me. Showed me that I loved you and was worth something to you, and I let myself love. Let myself love and trust, let myself walk right into thinking I’d truly lost you when you came home gone. But you’re still in there, still here. Still saving people you don’t know, still forgiving synths despite what they did to you.”

“I’m not forgiving synths. I’m forgiving you.” Gray replied, leaning forward.

Danse’s hands pulled him in closer. “Promise me you’ll eradicate them when the time comes.” He said. “Despite what they say, they cannot be allowed to age into the new era. If we must work with them to find the secrets of this island, so be it, but we cannot allow more exceptions.”

Gray stared at him for a moment. He was serious, the Brotherhood loyalty within him continuing to exist despite them betraying him. “If I can kill old friends, I can kill nameless synths. I promise you, Danse.”

Danse looked away for a second before staring back at him. “Promise that you’ll eliminate me when the time comes.”

Gray pulled away from his hands and looked at him in horror. “I could never do that.”

“What is there for me aside from you? You’re the only thing I know is real.” The synth argued.

Gray grabbed Righteous Authority from his bag under the bed and tossed it onto Danse’s chest. His lover flinched and began to prepare a lecture about gun safety that would make a Squire’s knees shake, but before he could say anything Gray interjected, “It’s not loaded. Father stripped me of my ammunition when he fucked my mind. The point is that _you_ made that. It’s real. Keep it to remind yourself.”

Danse's brow furrowed, “Don’t you— “No. Knowing _he_ touched it makes me sick.” Gray said. “The 10mm is already in the sea. I threw it after I left the Prydwen.”

“You’ve been travelling without a sidearm?” Danse asked.

“You are my sidearm for now.” Gray replied. “I’ll pick up something besides Camille eventually.”

Danse’s fingers moved over the familiar gun. She had a few more scratches than he remembered, but he had a feeling he was present for most of their creations. He placed it gently back onto the floor and decided not to pursue the subject. “I love you.” he said softly.

“I love you too.” Gray replied, lamenting how foreign the exchange felt. He bent down and untied his boots as Danse shifted away from the wall.

The Paladin slid into the space his partner had made but did not lean into him. He knew that Danse was uneasy about Acadia, and most likely also the Children of Atom. It didn't feel right between them at the moment.

“We’re not staying for more than two weeks. I promise.” Gray said.

Danse wanted to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I've recently recovered from a hand injury. One-handed typing is a skill that I have yet to master.


	26. A Maine Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Acadia.

 

_XXVI_

               “Ah, you two.” Longfellow sighed. “Avery warned me about what you’re about to ask for.  I'm done leadin' people to their deaths in the Fog.” He was sitting near the back door with a glass of whiskey despite it being seven in the morning.

“Did she tell you that I put down the Fog Crawler?” Gray replied.

“You realize that you're surrounded by people who do that every day? Last fella did some scuffling on the hull didn't last five minutes. What makes you think you’ll be any different?” Longfellow countered.

Gray’s brow furrowed, but Danse was used to his ill temperament after a restless night. “We have to get to Acadia and collect a confused runaway before her father goes off the deep end. Name your price.” He interjected.

This seemed to get the hunter’s attention. He glanced at his glass. “If you're set on doin' this, I'll take my pay in whiskey. Grab me a flask, and then we can work on getting you to Acadia alive.”

Gray turned swiftly to go bother Mitch.

Longfellow downed the rest of his drink and pushed himself to his feet. “He always like this?”

“He’s an insomniac, mornings have never been his forte. The fighting back home has taken its toll as well.” Danse replied.

Gray appeared behind him and handed Longfellow the bottle.

“Now, before we even leave this bar I gotta get one thing straight. You've got to listen to me. Go where I say. When I say it. I get that you’re full o’ piss and vinegar, but if you want to make this a one-way trip, by all means, ignore me.” The man said sternly.

Gray granted him a nod he usually reserved for Kells or Maxson. “Lead on.”

Danse slipped on his helmet as they walked out. Longfellow handed Gray some Mirelurk Jerky. “You might want to take this for the road. Tastes foul as sin, but it'll help.”

Gray tucked it into a pocket on his thigh as they jogged.

After a dozen or so yards, Longfellow said, "Tracks. Fresh ones. Trappers ahead.”

“Two o’clock.” Gray said, sliding behind what remained of a car as Longfellow took a knee and Danse kept his pace.

The synth started firing fusion cells as his partner took out the leg of one that stood on a roof. His landing was met with a .45-70 round and he was finished off as Gray found a new target. This Trapper screamed an insult and ducked behind cover as Danse finished off the first one they had encountered.

Gray fired a fully-powered shot into the flimsy scrap wood. Blood gushed from the hole and a choking sound carried across the wharf.

Longfellow rose back to his feet. “You're not half bad in a scrap. Figured I'd have to take care of the lot of them.”

Gray’s gun slung back over his shoulder without a word, and during the momentary walk to catch up to Danse, the hunter looked up to the misty mountain. “The Fog can do a number on you. Gets you all turned around. Does somethin' to your brain.” He mused.

“We have Raiders on the Mainland. Rad-rot is ubiquitous.” Gray replied.

“Save the er… eloquence for the synths, alright?” Longfellow said. “We Harborfolk don’t have time to grab a dictionary.”

Danse adjusted the strap that held something instead of Ashmaker. The minigun had been familiar, but Gray was right about its ineffectiveness against thicker armor. They traded it along with its ammunition to a grimacing yet obviously pleased Allen Lee in exchange for Admiral’s Friend.

“Now,” Longfellow said, stopping and turning to them instead of what lied ahead, “Here's the mountain trail, we stick to this and we'll make it to Acadia. Game trails crisscross the road, so don't be surprised if we got more local wildlife to deal with.”

His compatriots awarded him nods and they set off.

“Hopefully nothing like last night.” The synth mused as they jogged.

“Crawlers usually stick to deep fog, we’re steering clear of that—” a familiar cry from somewhere far-off interrupted him, “but you never know.”

Soon after, a dark mass erupted from the foliage and Gray kicked the wolf aside before it could properly bite him. He shot at one further in the trees as Longfellow finished off the first.

Danse charged into the brush and confronted one head-on, knocking it out of the air as it leapt and drawing his weapon fast enough to impale it to the wet ground with a yelp.

The Gauss rifle echoed through the forest around them and was followed by a “Clear” from Gray.

Cold steel hit Danse's back and a bloodied harpoon joined the others in the oversized quiver on his other shoulder blade.

“You like them puppies? We grow everything extra mean on the island. I suggest harvesting their meat the next time you run into em’, cook it up with some Lureweed and it does somethin’ to the eyes that makes seeing in the dark a helluva lot easier.  But we’re on business and their blood will only attract unwanted attention.” Longfellow advised.

“You got any other recipes?” Danse asked as they set off.

“Brooks is more well-versed in cooking, I mostly just grill things dry and buy whatever slop Mitch has leftover. Stay away from the fish, though. They’ll twist your mainland guts better than a Super Mutant could ever dream to.” The old man replied.

“Stringing more souls to their damnation, old man?” Someone called through the fog.

Longfellow cursed as the words’ origin came into view. “Well, what have we here? Another rad-worshippin' lunatic, that's what.”

“Your barbs do not harm me. I am shielded by my faith.” She said.

“How 'bout bullets? Faith shield ya against those, too?” He retorted hotly.

“Alright, settle down. I know you’re a Child of Atom, but my question is why you’re not shouting “heretic” and trying to melt my brains.” Gray interjected.

“Some of our brothers and sisters view outsiders that way, yes, but here in our Holy Land we like to give everyone the opportunity for enlightenment.” She said. “Though, those of Far Harbor like to incite war with their archaic ways.” She added, glaring at Longfellow.

The old man mumbled something along the lines of “You started it.”

“Holy Land?” Gray asked, ignoring his guide's discontent with the situation.

“The fog, the Vessel, this island is perfect for us. As if Atom himself had blessed these lands with radiation.” She explained.

“Vessel?” Gray said, somewhat annoyed by her cryptic manner of speech.

“In our home, The Nucleus, there is a Vessel that holds all that we need for glorious Division.” She said.

“Alright, I’ve heard enough of this shit, you comin’ or not?” Longfellow asked Gray, walking up the path by himself.

Danse glared at the woman despite the fact that she couldn’t see his face, and placed a hand on Gray’s bicep. The Paladin shrugged him off, but continued up the trail alongside the synth in silence.

Longfellow turned to them once they reached the doorstep of the observatory. “Acadia's already been watchin' us for a good spell. If you want to talk with them just go inside.” He paused to think for a moment. “You need my help again, you come see me. Got a cabin just outside of Far Harbor, you’re welcome to drop by if you need a place.”

“I’ll bring you something strong if I ever do.” Gray said with a small smirk.

Longfellow patted his shoulder as he walked by. “That’s the spirit, kid.”

Once his footsteps faded a bit, Gray turned to Danse. “Promise me right now that whatever happens, whatever they say, whatever they ask us for, that it stays peaceful.”

Danse stared back at him and grimaced. Gray wished he could see behind his helmet.

“Fine.” The synth said begrudgingly.

               DiMA looked the duo up and down for a second time. “Tell me: Are you a synth?”

“No. I don’t even have doubts.” Gray replied sternly.

The prototype looked to Danse. “And you?”

“Yes.” He replied bluntly. His scowl was, for once, unobscured.

“Are you here to seek asylum?” DiMA asked.

“No.” Danse said.

“Kasumi is usually working down below, whenever you wish to see her. Did you need anything else before you go?” He then asked them. “I implore you to meet with all of the inhabitants of Acadia. If you need supplies, address Dejen.”

“We’re fine. Thank you.” Gray replied calmly. He was grateful for DiMA not being thrown off by Danse's underlying hostility. 

He and Danse descended the stairs, still in an uncomfortable silence.

               Kasumi sighed in frustration as the worn-down wrench slipped off the bolt for the third time. Her thumb still throbbed from when it had hit her instead of the concrete.

“Kasumi Nanako?” Gray asked around a newly-purchased cigarette.

 “Who are you?” She asked, not bothering to look over.

“Your parents sent us.” He replied.

She stiffened, and her eyes snapped to their direction.

“You’re not a synth.” Gray said. “The only way to escape the Institute is through help from the Railroad, and after they erased your memory there’s no way in hell they’d allow you to stay in the Commonwealth. If you were a synth replacing someone, you would know your mission.” He blew smoke away from both her and Danse, but yet she still let out a small cough.

“You don’t…” she paused for a moment and then sighed curtly before continuing, “Look, I get it. They hired you to bring their daughter back... and I wish I could, I really do... But Acadia isn't what I thought it was. There's more going on here than just the refuge. I can't leave until I've gotten to the bottom of it.”

Gray glanced at Danse only to see a blank slate. “If there’s something going on, Kasumi, _we_ will get to the bottom of it for you. When that happens, you seriously consider going back home, alright?”

She thought for a moment. “I keep seeing DiMA, Faraday, and Chase head into the laboratory at the other end of the hall. Then they come out later, looking like they've been arguing. There's actually a storage space right next to there. It'd be a perfect spot to hide and eavesdrop, but it's been locked up. I've also tried breaking into Faraday's terminal, since he and DiMA are so close, but the security on it is crazy.” She explained.

Danse spoke before Gray could promise anything. “We will look into it. For now, I recommend that you see someone about that thumb.”

The paladin simply blew smoke from his nose and kept his eyes on Kasumi.

“Fine.” She replied. “Now, could you leave me to my work and stop trying to give me an asthma attack?”

Gray raised his eyebrows and flicked the cigarette to the ground before rubbing it out with his boot. “Adieu.”

She rolled her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you appreciate these exposition chapters or if you'd rather I just get to the meat of the story. I feel like they're necessary on some level, but it takes some patience on my part to write them in a way that makes them worth the effort.


	27. Like Men, Like Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some loose ends just refuse to be tied.

 

_XXVII_

 

               “So, you’re this “Maxson” I’ve been hearing about?” Hancock asked.

The Elder looked him in the eyes and said nothing. He had arrived flanked by two Knight-Sergeants and was appalled by how easily he was let into the mayor’s quarters.

“Spit it out, smoothskin.” The ghoul said impatiently. “I’ve got a town to run.”

“I’ve heard rumors that you allowed for synth passage through this town and gave one of my Paladins a hard time when you heard he was part of our operation to eliminate the Railroad. Are these rumors true?” Maxson asked coolly.

Hancock looked him up and down. “My ties with the Railroad were strictly business, made back when they were more stable. They ran their operation, I got some extra muscle to call upon when I needed it.” He lied. “Your Paladin knew what their protection meant for me and my people because we go way back. He told me what he did face-to-face like a man, and we settled a dispute like men. There’s no hard feelings there.”

“We’re on the same side, then. I trust that you won’t be feeding your people any lies or exaggerations, I know how influential you are to the locals.” Maxson replied. He wasn't fully convinced. This topic would be one to discuss once Apollon got back from his reconnaissance mission.

“If you want to guarantee that, I suggest we work out some sort of deal. I speak the truth, but I can omit some things in the name of peace.” Hancock said.

Maxson’s lip twitched, but he waved the soldiers out onto the landing and with a snap of the mayor’s fingers the doors closed. The Elder said nothing, and the ghoul lit a cigar.

“I know you’re not here to wipe me off of the face of the Earth. While I have confidence in my boys, I’m sure those two alone could do a fair bit of damage before they put ‘em down. Now, I also know that you want me to tell my people that you were sent by God and that the Railroad was working with the Institute all along. I’m not going to do that. Like I said, I speak the truth.” Hancock said. “I know you may not like ghouls, but neither of us are feral just yet.”

“What I need from you, is cooperation, Mister McDonough. If you like your little town, you will listen to me. Apollon isn’t here to protect you, and I do not make deals with addicts. All I ask is for you to tell them what we did has nothing to do with them, or their precious Doctor Imari. You’re on thin ice.” Maxson replied, his tone deadly serious. “Are we clear?”

Hancock’s brow raised, and he simply replied with a “If it’s going to be like that, then yes.”

The Elder took his leave, and for a while Hancock sat alone, with his doors still closed. He ashed the cigar onto an umber stain on his floor. “I think they got to him.” He said quietly.

 


	28. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Gray examine their relationship in the wake of their arguments and new objective.

_XXVIII_

 

               “Clear!” Gray called down the stairs as Camille slid snugly into the leather holster across his shoulders.

Confronting DiMA had been easy. Offering help, no matter how restricted by time, was all it took for him to explain his plan to bring peace to the island. That plan included scoping out, and hopefully infiltrating, the home base of the Children of Atom. Danse hadn’t been happy with the prospect, but at least Gray had promised a return date. If all went as planned, they would be home in two weeks.

The stairs creaked loudly under his feet, which settled some thoughts about straggling Trappers surprising them in the night. Finding the old pond house wasn’t by pure chance, a seemingly homemade guidebook Gray had picked up led them to it.

“I’ll drag him out of here, you get to work on securing the entrances.” Danse said, referring to the fresh corpse that leaned against the far wall.

Gray broke off the leg of an old coffee table. “I was thinking the same thing.” He replied.

As a new streak of bloodstained Danse’s metal shoulder, Gray pushed a washing machine against the back door. He dusted off his hands on his beat-up uniform and made a mental note to buy a replacement once they got back to the mainland.

Danse splashed water onto his chest plate to rinse off some blood and looked out over the pond. He wondered for a moment what types of creatures awaited him if he stepped in, but in all his years of wading through rivers, he’d never seen anything other than the occasional rad-burned fish or particularly barnacled Mirelurk. Still, Far Harbor seemed to be filled with new and terrifying marine life.

Danse picked up a flat rock and got it to skip twice over the surface of the calm water. It had taken him a while to figure out how to it in power armor, but plenty of days spent waiting for another op next to the Potomac provided that downtime.

“I can’t even do that with my bare hand.” Gray said. 

Danse almost jumped. There were times where he appreciated Gray’s ability to be silent, but this wasn’t one of them. “I dislike it when you sneak up on me.”

“Well, you don’t do things like that when you know I’m coming.” Gray replied.

Danse had adapted to the Hallucigen-born and synth-raised rift between them in more ways than one.

“Sometimes I think you’re going to start calling me “Knight” again.” The Paladin said somberly.

Danse knew what he meant. There were things he felt a need to say, but he instead replied with “Let’s get inside so we can barricade the door.”

               The boat had been normal. Gray was excited, though it paled in comparison to the Knight Danse had known.

The Paladin was stressed by Maxson subtly threatening the life of his partner. He had consciously avoided the Prydwen since eliminating the Railroad, and not even considered going to Goodneighbor for anything, even if Hancock had never banned him. Gray never woke up particularly tormented, either he had begun to stomach the nightmares, or they dissipated as his surroundings changed.

The synth’s fingers toyed with a lock of black hair gently as he sat on the bed with Righteous Authority in his lap. He understood what Gray was going through. It had been a long time since one of his own cursed memories came out to play, though now it was only the ones he knew to be true that bothered him. The childhood memories he blocked out were only replaced with self-hatred. The same self-hatred that had him wait until the morning of their trip to Acadia to Stimpack his ribs.

His ring glinted in the slice of pale moonlight that shone through the boarded-up window. He knew Gray still wore his too. He still loved him and knew that his small betrayals were just a symptom of the gas. His insides told him to just be happy, that he could let his guard down and love again. The logical part of his mind knew that Gray would never be the same.

Gray tilted his head back, filling the synth’s palm with the hair he had been carefully fidgeting with. “Hey.” He was sleepily greeted by his companion.

“Hello.” Danse replied. It was… awkward. Danse knew Gray’s boundaries. But what were his?

“What are we?” Gray asked after a silence. The smaller man had felt the ring on his scalp.

Danse was quiet for a moment. His hand stilled, and Gray could suddenly hear his own heartbeat.

“Together.” The synth replied. “I don’t know if you’re my boyfriend or my fiancé or even if we’re already married. But I know we’re together.” His tone was dry.

“I know I’ve been an asshole these past couple weeks, Danse. I know that I hurt you, and I really wish I didn’t feel the need to push you away because of the dreams. I know that my stance on synths conflicts with the Brotherhood, but I also know that you’re the only exception I’m going to make.” Gray replied. “I love you, Danse. I know that you hate that you’re a synth. But if we’re being honest, you’re more human than most of us when you want to be.”

“I shouldn’t be distancing myself from you. You’re better now. It’s just…” Danse trailed off, unable how to exactly put it.

“You build walls, Danse. It’s not programming, it’s your nature.” Gray said sternly. “Being a synth changes nothing. You’re not the Institute’s plaything, you’re free.”

He needed to hear that. He needed to hear that from the man that had aged so much in seven months. “When I first met you, I never thought you would have had such a traumatizing life.” The synth said.

“That’s because when we first met, I had been alone for six years, it had been a long time for me to heal and settle in. A repressed childhood leads to immaturity.” Gray explained. “But I don’t think I’ll be having that problem anymore.”

“I hope not.” Danse said with a soft but genuine smile.

“For the sake of the Brotherhood, same here.” Gray replied with a yawn.

He fell asleep in a comfortable silence with the synth’s fingers in his hair. Danse stared at him, remembering when he wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure.


	29. Loss and Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse remembers what it's like to almost lose his partner, Gray digs into his own thoughts.

_XXIX_

 

               “Gray!” Danse yelled into the dead air. His heart pounded in his ears as he searched frantically. He knew it was a terrible idea, but Gray had insisted that there was “no other way” before he drank from the spring. The man then looked up and took off at a dead sprint into fog that was much thicker than moments earlier, with a confused and terrified Danse at his heels.

The sound of a gauss rifle caused Danse to turn right. He ran into a ghoul as a building poked through the mist. He bent its knee backward with a powerful kick and crushed its skull underfoot as he drew his weapon and impaled another to the sheet metal wall of the shack. He put down another and yelled his partner’s name once again.

He found dead ghouls as he turned a corner to see an open door. “Danse?” A voice asked from within. Gray had been gone for maybe ten minutes, but it felt like hours.

The synth charged in and pulled his companion into his metal-clad chest. The wooden totem in Gray’s hand _clunked_ against it and Danse’s attention was redirected. “What is that?”

“I don’t know. I hallucinated from whatever was in that water and followed a… _figure_ here. I just felt a need to take this, and then the hallucination was over.” Gray explained. “My vision normalized, and I understood where I was, everything just… came back.”

“Do you think it is significant?” Danse asked.

“There's the crazy Children markings all over this place. I hope that this thing proves that I drank from their spring.” Gray said.

Danse let go of him and the Paladin stepped back. As he rifled through his pockets for a place to keep the totem, the synth walked back outside to find the thick fog almost completely gone. “Do you believe in what they say now?” He asked, terrified of the answer.

“No.” Gray said, walking past him and into the grey afternoon. “They’re just misguided people, looking for some solace in what comes after death. But hey, we hope that the Brotherhood will make all this _,_ ” he gestured to the wasteland around him, “better for whoever comes after us.”

“The Brotherhood has a track record.” Danse replied, mildly offended by the comparison. “You can see results before you die. We all can.”

“You’re right.” Gray said. He was comforted by the heavy footfalls behind him. He knew Danse was right, but in his mind the parallels he'd drawn still stood.

               The Assaultron smacked against the wall and ripped the harpoon from the concrete as it leapt forward again, only to hit the ground when a 2mm EC ripped its way through its center mass.

Another harpoon pinned its head to the ground, and it finally whirred into submission.

Heavy breathing filled the room. The robot had scared both of them, neither had seen it until it was close. “I’m still not letting you get hooked up to that thing.” Danse said. They had been bickering over who's brain would be connected to the computer when the Assaultron made its first appearance.

“Y'know what? I’m not going to fight with you. Have at it, I’m going to clear out the rest of this place and see what I can scavenge.” Gray replied.

“I’ll take a break in a few hours and see if you’re dead.” Danse scoffed.

“Same here.” Gray retorted with a smile. “You’ll be fine, and I am fully capable of handling myself. See you in a few hours, boy scout.”

Danse exited his power armor with a roll of his eyes and Gray reloaded his rifle.

               The innards of a Protectron were splayed over the checkerboard tiles of what once was a kitchen. Gray unplugged the final wire and freed the undamaged circuit board from the headless robot. He slid it gently into his pack and swung it back onto his shoulders and over Camille.

The rocky walls and musty smell of the Command Center seeped into Gray’s nerves, he didn’t want to imagine how it must’ve been for the men who died there, trapped like rats. He longed for fresh air as he sat down against the wall of the main computer room, where Danse was still stone-faced at the computer.

He closed his eyes and allowed what filled his mind to roam free.

_The innards of the Institute, now full of mist and with a new humanoid addition to the shadows. The feeling of the tons of dirt and rock pressing in on him. The coolness of the toilet his hands touched when he retched. The odd warmth of X6-88’s tone when he asked what was wrong. Danse’s cool fingers on his warm scalp. Those same fingers digging into his hip and pulling a cold bottle from his hand. His jagged finger nail leaving a small crescent on Danse’s clavicle. Danse’s face when he concentrated on the circuitry of his Power Armor. The scar through his left eyebrow. The way his lips looked during one of his rare smiles. The way he bit his lip when he climaxed._

“Gray.”

_His voice. The mumbling in his sleep. The soft snoring. The moans against his neck._

A gentle kick roused him from his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes and stuttered, before Danse interrupted him, “DiMA had the means to destroy both Far Harbor and the Children of Atom.”

“W-what?” Gray said, his brow furrowing.

“There’s a code that can shut off the fog condensers for Far Harbor by cutting off their power supply. The nuclear warheads in the submarine are armed, there’s a launch key that DiMA knew about. I recovered the location of Pre-War armor shipments that were supposedly the top of the line. We need to retrieve these things.” Danse explained. “After that, I vote that we get the hell out of _here_ and tell DiMA that we couldn’t find anything useful. We can take the boat around the island because everything we need is close to the shoreline. Then you report back to Maxson with my written statement and we see what direction this takes us."

Gray stared at the ground for a moment, digesting all of what he was hearing.

“Gray?” Danse asked again. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

The Paladin then scrambled to his feet, took Danse’s face into his hands, and kissed him chastely.

The synth’s hands grabbed Gray’s shoulders out of reflex, but he didn’t push his lover away. He returned the kiss but with more gusto. Gray nipped at his lower lip as he pulled away for air.

“You’re amazing, boy scout.” The Paladin cooed. “I owe you.”

Danse’s nose pressed against his gently. “You don’t owe me anything.” He replied.

Gray’s thumb rubbed against his cheekbone. He kissed the Paladin back and his hand slid to his partner’s pectoral to push him gently. Gray backpedaled a few steps into the wall as Danse lifted his thigh to gently press between his legs.

The synth broke the kiss and stared into Gray’s eyes for a moment before biting into his neck roughly. The Paladin gasped, but the sharp pain was soon replaced with the familiar feeling of Danse’s tongue.

Gray rutted against the other man’s thigh. “ _Danse?”_ He whispered, his breath hitching as Danse’s free hand met his clothed member.

His partner grunted a “ _mhm?_ ” around his pulse point.

“I… I’m not prepared.” Gray said, not sure if Danse would catch his meaning.

“You think I expect you to be right now?” The synth replied. “I don’t mind, there are rags and water in my pack.”

“ _I_ mind.” Gray replied.

Danse’s hand slid between his partner’s legs and he brushed against the subject of their conversation. Gray’s cock twitched, but his eyes were stern.

They were magnets, and Danse knew it. They attracted one minute, repelled another.

“We’ll continue this some other time?” The synth asked, the hopefulness seeping into his tone. He wasn't sure why he suddenly needed Gray more than ever.

Gray found it adorable. “Hopefully.” He replied, looking to the passage that would take them out of the Nucleus.

Danse kissed him chastely before re-entering his power armor. The burn in his gut died against the cool metal. “You’re right. We need to get moving, I don’t want to be in unfamiliar territory after nightfall.”

Gray slung everything back onto his shoulders. “I tend to be, sometimes.”


	30. C8H11NO2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse and Gray take another step forward.

_XXX_

 

               Gray’s wet skin felt cool in Danse’s palm. Truly, the synth had forgotten about his partner’s promise to continue what they’d had started in the Nucleus’s Command Center. It was out of the question in his rational mind, yet as their well-traveled blanket touched his bare skin he wasn’t focused on the territory around him. He bit into Gray’s neck and the Paladin groaned into his shoulder.

The synth's motions weren’t well-practiced, it had been years since he had prepared someone. Gray’s thighs squeezed his hips and damp black hair blocked out the dying sunlight. This wasn’t on impulse. It wasn’t something Danse could write off in his protocol-oriented mind. His teeth grazed the Deathclaw scar for the third time. Blunt nails scratched his chest. Gray’s breath hitched, and he knew he’d found what he was looking for. The synth’s free hand stroked his partner’s member while his own pressed against the Paladin’s rear.

His mind wandered as his fingers found loosely-familiar motions and Gray’s hips moved slowly. Danse had welcomed the tunnel vision that came with the first hard kiss.  He tried to focus on his partner’s soft moans and the slight friction his movements created, but intrusive thoughts weren’t easily silenced. The urge to pull him off was there, fermenting in the back of his head. But it wasn’t quite the same as it was back in Fairline Hill. Not exactly like their first true encounters in Listening Post Bravo. Gray wasn’t as spunky, wasn’t as sure-footed. Then again, Danse wasn’t as morally stable and reserved.

But the hands grabbing his bicep and the hot breath on his neck was enough to keep him anchored. Gray pulled forward, away from his hands, and Danse’s nose pressed into the concave of Gray’s chest for a split second before the slightly smaller man leaned back to stand on his knees. The smear of warm Mutfruit oil above where Danse’s fingers rested on Gray’s thigh caught the faint light. But nothing could distract the synth from his red-faced but confident-looking partner, who pressed himself down onto his cock ever so slightly.

The blanket had fallen somewhat gracefully on Gray’s hips as if it had been placed. It was oddly silent and perfect in the dusty room. Despite the way he was exposed in front of him, Danse couldn’t tear his eyes from his partner’s. They bored into him, stormy as ever, but reflected a softness the synth didn’t know he needed until then.

Gray wasn’t completely sure of himself. It _had_ been some time, but the way his heart sped up when he made eye contact with Danse made him want to take it all at once. He was rusty, but not inexperienced.

He sank slowly, each time Danse bucked a little he would retreat upward. His partner’s hands would dig into his flesh, but neither of them said anything. His thighs were shaking. There was no once-over from Danse. No growled compliments or ass smacks, though his partner’s hand _had_ migrated backward. Just resigned silence from an uncharacteristically fidgety synth.

“ _I didn’t know fucking your sponsor was something the Brotherhood stood for, Paladin._ ” A familiar voice was conjured from Danse’s mind, turning his stomach to ice. Soldiers don’t betray elders. Gray needed to stay on Arthur’s good side. He shouldn’t be doing this. Danse shouldn’t be _letting_ him do this. The synth froze and pushed his hips as far down into the mattress as he could get, pulling away only slightly. But right as he did, the Paladin’s body _smacked_ lightly against him as he bottomed out. 

Danse’s paranoid need to get away vanished and he thrust himself as far as he could get with a groan. His feelings weren't calculated then, weren't as synthetic as he knew them to be. They found a rhythm quickly. Danse pulled Gray down and kissed him, what remained of his left ear was cradled in his palm as he swore. Gray moaned softly, and his hands cupped his lover’s face as he moved ever so gently.

Gray had always been his own sort of powerhouse. He’d been professionally killing since he was a boy, and that had its benefits in the wastes.  Danse was sure that even only in their time together, his body count outweighed his. And yet the former mercenary had wanted Danse by his side even back when he was a cold sponsor. His interest in Danse ran deep. It was born of lust and aged in bullet wounds. Even if the Paladin’s loyalty was only half for the organization he’d sold his soul to, even if the naïve sanity he’d once had was turned harder and darker, even if Danse wasn’t part of the Brotherhood anymore, Gray knew he was where he belonged. In his lover’s arms.

Danse bit into Gray’s shoulder. His flesh hadn’t felt like his own since he’d found out. But now as he felt things he hadn’t in years, and his partner moaned his name into his mouth, the hatred for his body lessened. It had its pros. His fluidity in power armor, his ability to lift, the way his touch melted Gray. He'd had a lot of time to think after Gray had gotten home from Mass Fusion. A lot of time to dwell on the fact that his partner was probably gone. That the only person that made him human had lost his own humanity.

His left hand slid up the Paladin’s body, feeling old scars and squeezing the muscle. The slightly smaller man shuddered under his touch. How many times had he felt the pain of a knife slash and the blinding burn of a bullet? Danse had of course been shot too, but his power armor protected much of his body from damage. He was excited when he found out about the marine armor. It was something that promised to protect his partner, even if Gray would strip it down to its lightest form as he did with every armor.

Gray’s fingers interlaced with the synth’s, “I’m close.” He croaked.

Danse’s pace quickened. His fingers dug into Gray. The world was condensed into the pools of his lover’s eyes. His own essence leaked onto his lower abdomen when Gray leaned forward to kiss him. He felt his lover’s chest heave and shudder as a new warmth graced his flesh. 

“ _I love you,_ ” Gray whispered. “ _I love you so much, Danse._ ”

“ _I love you too._ ” Danse replied softly. His arms tightened around his partner and he kissed his neck.

The sun was a sliver off from setting, and as they moved away from each other, they both quickly realized the mess between them required a bath in the lake. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a doozy. I've had a rough time this past month, both in life and in writing. I actually had this chapter finished a month ago, but it was deleted in a file error, and re-writing it was a challenge.   
> But, more importantly, this series isn't over. There are two more DLC storylines to be addressed alongside finishing off the Institute, and I plan to not leave Far Harbor unfinished.


	31. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get out of dodge.

 

_XXXI_

 

               The water was far colder at night, and what remained on their skin drew heat from them, as they sat in dry clothes by the fire on the ground floor. Gray blew smoke out of the window above his head as Danse inspected and cleaned his sidearm. The collar of the Paladin's uniform wasn't fully buttoned, and he caught the synth staring at the bite marks on his neck. The map splayed over his legs didn't have coordinates listed and translating its locations into his Pip-Boy required time, landmarks, and guesswork. Which, in his mind, was how people got around before the Great War; as evidenced by the near-useless map.

“How long do you think it will take to retrieve everything?” Danse asked, ever-conscious of their changing time budget.

Putting DiMA’s plan on hold was something Gray wasn’t exactly sure about. “I think we can still expect the same return date. We just have to make sure the boat has enough fusion cores and hope we don’t get caught in any storms. But the armor pieces seem to be underwater.”

“How far off of the shore are they?” Danse asked.

“Far enough to where we’d have to take the boat out, but I could probably dive for them. We can tie a rope to my waist. I’ve done it before.” Gray replied.

The synth cocked an eyebrow. “Why would you ever need to do that?”

“Back when I was still with Kellogg, and the Gunners were still small-time in Boston, they hid their supplies really well. The Institute got intel on it, and we were tasked with trying to uncover as many shipments as possible. One of them was in Walden Pond.” Gray explained

Danse’s stomach sunk a bit. “I didn’t mean to make you think about your time with Kellogg.” He apologized.

 “We’ve talked about this.” Gray said reassuringly, not wanting his partner to dwell on it.

“I remember. But I don’t want to make facing it any harder.” Danse’s hand slipped as he spoke, and the screwdriver missed his thigh by a millimeter.

“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on not impaling yourself, boy scout.” Gray said with a slight smile.

Danse rolled his eyes but let the conversation die to do just that.

 

               _A pool of blood seeped over the kitchen’s beige tiles. His father always joked “The floor’s been grimy since the nukes, Tabs. We’ve_ slept _on worse” whenever his mother tried to scrub them white again. She had become a bit of a clean freak since Gray’s birth._

_A curse was spat through gritted teeth as said father tried to pull himself up the counter and back onto his feet. “Get. The Hell. Out of here.” He growled at his son, but the boy kept slowly pushing the tipped-over fridge against the door._

_“Sam?!  Are you in here?!” A cry came from the back of the house._

_"Kitchen!” His father yelled weakly._

_Gray strained and the fridge squealed against the ground as he finally got it where he wanted it._

_His mother didn’t scream when she saw her husband. She just handed him their daughter and his hands left the countertop to instead put pressure on the makeshift tourniquet around her chest. Tabitha turned her head and then pulled the 10mm from her waistband to start firing at the mechanical skeleton that had followed her._

_It ran the length of their home in fourteen seconds and tore into her despite the shots it had taken. Gray charged it, kicked its shoulder hard enough to dislodge its grip, and shoved the knife through its thin neck. He twisted the blade and the head fell to one side, connected by a single cable. The mechanisms whirred but the synth’s sharp fingers had already severed his mother's brain stem._

_His father focused on Camille as his son screamed for him, her life had bled through the wrappings and his wife’s fingers long before she reached his grasp._

_Heavy boots echoed off of the floor, Gray’s cries ceased as the shadows advanced. Glass crunched under Kellogg’s feet as his resigned boredom morphed into something new._

_The boy swept the first synth off of its feet and used its chest to jump onto the other’s shoulders. The synth hooked one arm under his leg and threw him onto the coffee table. The boy rolled into the space between the table and the couch before the synth’s baton met wood. The first one was back on its feet, but the boy was too. He took a hit to the forearm with a yelp but sank his blade into the synth’s shoulder, and turned it around so that it could take a hit from its counterpart._

_A .44 caliber bullet found the boys thigh and the leg gave out, sending him to the floor._

_“Restrain him.” Kellogg said._

_Gray cried out for his father once more. The latter man’s trance broke suddenly, and he pushed himself away from the counter, only for his innards to press against his gut wound and his body recoil. “Don’t you fucking touch him!”_

_The synths’ fingers dug into Gray’s biceps and his struggling was ceased with an elbow to the head._

_“Yknow, I’ve found that buying Stimpacks instead of Abraxo and dog food is the best way to go. Because if you’d done that, you could’ve made it upstairs to that sniper rifle you’re a tad famous for.” The merc said, leaning against the kitchen table. “The one that lets you think you can interfere with the Institute’s scouting trips.”_

_His father groaned. He’d been pale the whole time, but only now was he sweating profusely. “I-I only destroyed your machines because they were killing people.”  He said through his teeth._

_Kellogg crossed his arms. “And look where protecting everyone else got ya.” Gray struggled weakly as the merc talked. “Least the amount of fight in ya rubbed off on your boy.”_

_“Don’t talk about my son.” The wounded man wheezed._

_Kellogg rose back to his feet and pulled his gun from the holster on his hip. “Sammy, Sammy…” He tsked, pulling the man up into a sitting position by his hair._

_“No!” Gray cried, lurching forward. His gaze met his father’s as the barrel of the .44  pressed against the man’s brow._

_“Close your eyes.” His dad rasped._

_The shot rang through the trees as Gray did what he was told._

 

               He awoke with a sharp inhale and thrashed around for a moment, still feeling the cool metal in his flesh. The sensation faded as he gripped the near-invisible pockmarks on his upper bicep.

They’d arrived at Far Harbor the night before, after refusing DiMA's offer to stay in Acadia. Gray had told the prototype that they were unable to get into the terminal and that they would be leaving. While the synth’s disappointment was apparent, he didn’t seem to be suspicious.

Danse was nowhere to be found after a look around the rented room, Gray could only assume he was out turning their loot into provisions and munitions.

The Paladin sat up and pulled his bag from the floor. He matched his breaths to the waves hitting the pier while he dug for his comb and, from there, the familiar motions of his morning ritual brought him peace.

He was lacing his boots when Danse opened the door, complete with the duffle bag they used for extra supplies over his shoulder. “Gray, Doctor Wright needs help outside. A hunter was dragged in from the fog last night, and it doesn’t appear to be going well.”

“On it. We stocked up for the trip?” The Paladin asked, finishing his knot.

“Close to it. Brooks is packing us some fish jerky and Allen swears he has some extra harpoons lying around.” Danse replied. “I’m going to go get the boat ready, get me if you need me.” He added, slipping out the door.

Gray followed him out and found Teddy holding a freshly bandaged and coughing man up by his ankles with the help of another harborman. “Wright?” He asked.

“Ah good, Danse said you’d be better suited for this, can you take a look and see if he’s getting any of it up?” The doctor said nervously.

“Any of what up?” Gray said, kneeling down anyway.

“Well, here on the island the fog is more dangerous than just rads. When it gets into your lungs, it tends to stay there and block air from getting in. If you stay in the thick for too long, you’ll drown in a combination of it and your own mucus.” Teddy explained. 

The man then spat a thick, clear, substance onto the planks and groaned some garbled English. “Yeah, that brought up a bit of it.” Gray replied.

“It’s not going to be enough.” the Harborman sighed. He shifted the hunter’s calf off of his shoulder and Teddy mirrored his movement. Together, they laid the man out on the floor.

 “Have you ever tried manually flushing out the lungs?” Gray asked. He’d seen the technique used only once, during a brief stay in the Institute.

“What does that even mean?” Teddy asked.

“Go get me a liter of purified water and some kind of small water pump.” Gray said. “One we can fit down his throat.”

“That’s insane, you’re going to drown him!” The doc objected.

“Do you want him to live?” Gray asked. Teddy looked down. “And get Danse. He’s on my boat.”

Gray leaned down and prodded the man. “You still conscious?”

The hunter groaned back and weakly nodded.

“Then I’m sorry.” Gray said, grimacing slightly.

               For a moment, the world was empty. The only thing he knew was the gentle sound of the water beneath the waves. He’d always heard that drowning was peaceful.

He remembered the hunter’s story, it stood out, fragmented, in his mind above all else. “ _My husband John... We hunt Mirelurks. But... the last hunt did not go well. A Mirelurk Hunter, he blindsided John. I managed to pull him out, but I had to run blindly. Into the Fog. John was the tracker, he was the one who knows this island. But me, I got turned around.”_

He subconsciously drew the parallel and for a moment, pure panic seeped into his heart. 

And then he was pulled legs-first from the sea and began coughing up water as soon as he hit the deck. He rolled onto his belly and sat up against the cabin wall, but Danse pushed him back down and patted his back as he ejected seawater.

He’d waited too long to signal. He should’ve just made a second trip, but he was tired, and they were the final pieces. He’d inhaled water on the way back up, despite how quickly Danse had pulled the rope.

He breathed in deeply and his ribs cramped as he coughed out the last of the water.

Danse’s voice was muffled through the water in his ears but he simply repeated “I’m fine, I’m okay” as his lover worriedly touched and prodded him. He grabbed a canteen off the deck, swallowing made his left ear _pop_ and words became clearer as the seawater drained.

“You are _such_ a reckless asshole.” Danse swore, but the worry in his voice overtook the anger and made Gray grin a bit.

“You’re right, but I’m your reckless asshole.” He teased.

Danse glared at him and the tone shifted. “I’m being serious. Stop putting yourself in jeopardy, you know how deeply your loss would affect me.”

“I know that, I’m sorry. I just got a bit sloppy with the timing since it's so late. ” Gray replied solemnly as he looked up into the synth’s eyes.

Danse’s gaze shifted to the waves. The pair had already decided to leave the nuclear launch key and wind farm codes where they were, mostly due to how well they were hidden in general, but also because, from what they’d heard, the Harbormaster Hotel was filled to the brim with Super Mutants. Danse knew Gray had been listening to the tapes that he’d copied. He wondered if they were doing the right thing, but knew that Maxson wanted Gray back soon, and either way the Elder came first.

The synth bent down, took the Paladin’s head into his hands, and kissed him.

Gray’s right ear finally started draining as his lover's hand cupped the sides of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, it's been a hot minute since I posted a chapter. This one's a tad long, so I hope it makes up for it.   
> I know exactly where I want to take this series, so hopefully, things will get rolling more smoothly.  
> 


	32. Camaraderie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray does his job.

_XXXII_

 

_“I want to make sure people respect you as much as the chain of command demands they do, and for that they have to see you do your job.”_ Elder Maxson’s words echoed in his mind as he walked toward mess. Telling him had been easy, the look on his face when Gray presented him with exact blueprints of the Marine Armor, pre-modification, and a stack of tapes made up for his seemingly disinterested reply about Acadia. He’d proved his trip was fruitful in multiple ways, and the fact that he was slowly evening his debt left his mind free.

“Are you sure that no one is available?” A Scribe asked from his right, piquing his interest.

The Proctor’s brow furrowed. “We’ve got patrols out to barter for ammunition and other supplies for our upcoming assault on the Institute, I’m not wasting bodies right now to go dig up rocks. You were out two weeks ago.” He said.

“And I _need_ to take more samples, we’re going to need more than one farm, sir. If you want to keep our hold on the Commonwealth well-fed, then you’d allow me to get the surveying done as efficiently as possible.” He argued.

“For the _last_ time, Senior Scribe Lanse, there is _nobody_ available for your requested mission. Please resubmit your paperwork at a future date.” Quinlan replied, the closest to combative Gray had ever seen him.

“I’ll take him.” The Paladin interjected as he leaned against the doorway.

The Senior Scribe whipped around and gestured to him. “Will you approve escort by Paladin Apollon?”

Quinlan looked up at Gray. “Fine. _You_ deal with him.” He replied, the latter statement more under his breath.

“ _Finally_ ,” The Scribe sighed, “Read this to get a briefing, I’ll go try and requisition a Vertibird.” He handed Gray a manila folder and made for the ladder.

“He’s got a point about farming.” Gray said as he skimmed the notes.

“I know, but it’s ridiculous to waste people on it when we have so much to do. He’s already taken plenty of soil samples.” Quinlan said as he continued cataloging files.

“You can never know too much about the battlefield.” Gray said, mostly to himself, as he began to follow the excited Scribe.

               A cool breeze blew in from the east as Gray worried about their proximity to Listening Post Bravo. He sat on a boulder as the Scribe studied and field-tested the samples they’d collected over the last half hour. They were taking samples a solid half-mile away from Old Gullet Sinkhole, within what Lanse called “The Triangle”; land between The Slog, Greentop Nursery, and Finch Farm.

 “So, you were on the mission that brought us _Scribe_ Kidman, right?” Lanse asked as he waited for his homemade tests to show results.

“Yeah. Why did she become a Scribe?” Gray replied. “I never got a chance to ask.”

“Well, when she helped Cade with Lancer Shad’s care he noted her advanced knowledge of medicine and requested that she be more of a homebody, with her encouragement of course. Maxson wasn’t the most massive fan of the switch but agreed that one medical official in the whole Prydwen wouldn’t work when more Initiates came along. The rumor is that she allowed the switch because she was pregnant, but I doubt she’d be able to carry a baby in this line of work.” The Scribe replied.

“If she hasn’t gone on any ops since the Glowing Sea I’m sure she could’ve avoided radiation long enough for a fetus to mature. She might start showing soon.” Gray theorized.

“And we’d be able to see it under her coat? It would take longer. Plus, if she’s pregnant, she’d have been sent back to the Capital Wasteland.” Lanse retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“Not if she’s suddenly become Cade’s helper. He loves delegating to her, she’d stay here until the war was over if he said he needed her.” Gray argued.

“I bet a baby would improve morale either way, people miss their kids. I wouldn’t even mind the crying, when I left I had a new grandbaby.” Lanse said dreamily, writing down his findings as the colors in his test tubes changed.

“How many do you have?” The Paladin inquired, his eyes glued to the trees that hid his lover. Most of the Brotherhood knew that he had taken up residence in a pre-war bunker. None knew exactly why, save for Maxson. To the pilots that chartered him, the unnamed mercenary he took on personal business was named Charlie and was terrified of heights. So terrified that he went mute.

“Four.  Two boys and two girls, the grandson is my daughter Emilia’s. Shame that his father was a flake she met in Rivet City, but the boy is healthy and what more can you ask for.” He replied, his head far into the clouds.

Gray reached down to adjust a too-tight armor strap around his calf. He was still using combat armor for his bottom half, the marine armor just was too heavy for the type of leg movement he preferred, and he didn’t quite have the time to fashion the armor past how he had stripped it on the boat. He’d made the upper half of the armor usable by removing some of the extra metal on his shoulders and disassembling a bit of the chest piece’s bottom section to allow for his ever-preferred hip movement.

“You have any family?” Lanse asked warmly.

“Nah.” Gray replied passively. “Haven’t for a long time.”

“That’s a shame. Well, at least there’s still a lot of time. I’m sure you’ll find the right person.” The Scribe advised.

Gray stared at him as he worked. There was a painfully obvious fatherly quality to the man, one that the Paladin found comfort in. He wondered what his father would look like if he’d lived to have more than a few grey hairs.

They gossiped idly as the grenade signal emptied to their right.

“How do you manage to be so accurate with that thing?” Lanse asked, eyeing Gray’s signature rifle.

Gray shrugged. “I always carried a gun that was a bit too big. Got used to it, I guess. I take it you’re more of a pistol man?”

“I mean I’ve trained with laser rifles and I’m sure I could still use one effectively, but anything longer than my leg is beyond me completely.” Lanse said with a chuckle.

“How long have you been with the Brotherhood?” Gray asked.

“Oh, I was born in. My father was a star paladin and my mother was a scribe. I paid my dues as a squire, moved up to be a scribe, and here I am.” He replied somberly. “If the Institute wipes us out here, I’ll have no use and no way home.”

They were quiet for a moment. The gentle whirring of Vertibird blades a mile or so off brought the talk to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been taking its toll on my free time, but I hope to have another chapter done soon.   
> Thanks for bearing with me.


	33. THE END

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter about why I did not finish this work (and the actual ending I had planned)

IMPULSE CONTROL

 

            The simple truth of the matter is that I no longer feel a desire to continue writing my main two series: _Impulse Control_ and _Adaptation, Mutation, or Starvation_. I could leave it at that, but I feel that since both series have gone on for at least a year, their readers deserve better. I’ve decided to explain why I’ve decided not to force myself to write out the rest of these fics, and a breakdown on how I would’ve written the ending, had I gotten there.

ISSUES IN COMMON

  * I boxed myself in by following the main story 
    * It meant I had to write certain events, some of which I could have cared less about (and even skipped)
    * The main story ends (which was more of an issue in AMS), but even though it makes for a cookie-cutter plot, it really puts me off because we all know how Fallout 3/4 end and it’s easy to predict what the main character will do



 

  * My main characters are both based on characters I made in the game and played during the writing of the fic 
    * Which meant that I ended up figuring out a different path for them and feeling like they and their written versions no longer matched up; this was a major problem in IC
    * They also both feel 2D in my opinion, but I’ll expand on that in the specifics



 

  * They started because I simply wanted to write smut 
    * The plot sort of fizzles out once the main couple have sex
    * Even with all the chapters I slow-burned (and sometimes incinerated) my way through, the smut chapters still read like one-off lemons in my opinion.



 

  * THE SPECIFICS
  * Expanding upon Gray 
    * He had a very immature personality for the first few chapters, and I had no clue who he was when I started writing. I even started the fic with him being the Sole Survivor of his universe (I did retcon it though)
    * This immaturity persists in his dialogue at times, and I honestly don’t know why I kept doing it. I can’t write dialogue sometimes. Ex.



_“ You are such a reckless asshole.” Danse swore, but the worry in his voice overtook the anger and made Gray grin a bit._

_“You’re right, but I’m your reckless asshole.” He teased._

 

Why the hell did I write that? Gray is supposed to be a super-serious and passionate person driven by revenge and love at first sight. At least, that’s what I want him to be. That ain’t it, chief.

  * His two main character traits are childhood trauma and combat proficiency, and typically that cookie-cutter sort of character does not end well
  * Just about every time Gray self-reflects it turns into something sad about his past, and even I got bored with it sometimes



 

  * I low-key hate Paladin Danse 
    * Danse’s character, along with a whole lot of others in Fo4, is extremely cut and dry
    * I wrote his dialogue and general interactions pretty wrong, as I did for a lot of said characters because I just didn’t care enough
    * The only reason I picked him was because in-game Gray was my Brotherhood faction playthrough



 

  * I had no clue where this was going when I started writing 
    * I knew it ended up with them in bed, but didn’t even plan that far
    * This, in combination with Common Issue ii, is why we randomly ended up in Far Harbor



 

  * I have too many loose ends 
    * Again, this is due to CI ii
    * If I want to end this by writing it all out, I’d have to include MacCready, Hancock, Thalia Kidman (Who I originally called Kidwell, don’t know why because in all my plan notes it’s Kidman), Fredrick Shad, all the Far Harbor characters, X6-88 (he’s implied to be on Gray’s side so he’d probably self-sacrifice), Father, and probably Elder Maxson
    * That’s a pretty wild amount of writing just to have the tie-in end I want, just look at the following section



 

  * CURRENT CHAPTER --> ENDING
  * Gray Agrees to Blow up the Prydwen 
    * Hancock tells MacCready that Gray killed off the Railroad and is generally furious that Maxson is threatening Goodneighbor
    * They kidnap Danse and hold him hostage to get a talk with Gray, they send the message through the BoS and Shad flies Gray to wherever they are
    * Maxson writes a note to Gray that Shad can know the secret if he keeps it under wraps, Gray tells him, it’s a thing
    * Hancock/MacCready talk to Gray about blowing up the Prydwen (the railroad gave Hancock their plans at some point)
    * Danse is conscious and objects but is then knocked out, and Gray agrees to their plan and takes the stuff, but isn’t sure if he wants to actually do it
    * He kills them, Mac with Kellogg’s handgun because they didn’t know about it and he managed to hide it when they had him put his weapons down (I don’t think I made this clear, but he did have the gun as a sidearm for a while, this is the big reveal scene), and then shoots Hancock in the throat/chest
    * They have a final thing together, Gray sits in the dirt and holds him while he gurgles some words and dies
    * Gray is legitimately fucked up about this, they’re his oldest friends and he’s killed them because of his love



 

  * The Institute gets Blown Up 
    * Yadda yadda, the Brotherhood assaults the Institute
    * I actually had a specific scene concept here, Gray sits atop Liberty Prime’s shoulder as the robot crosses the river and then jumps into the water and continues the rest of the thing on foot
    * Gray confronts Father and obviously, he gets into Gray’s head; his points about how the BoS is evil really speak to Gray
    * The other major scene here is that Gray still has Kellogg’s handgun, and dramatically points it at Father while yelling about how evil the Institute is
    * He has flashbacks, his hand shakes, it’s up in the air whether he’s gonna shoot Father or not
    * He does but feels nothing
    * X6 probably does his whole sacrifice thing in this chapter somewhere, probably setting off the reactor for the BoS



 

  * A Final Love Scene 
    * Gray and Danse fuck back at the bunker, Danse is super happy because he’s under a strong impression that Gray denied blowing up the Prydwen (and the Institute is gone)
    * Danse is at peace for the first time in his life
    * Gray is super in thought because seeing Danse with nothing bothering him is something Gray doesn’t want to end, and Maxson is 100% looming over him
    * Gray decides to blow up the Prydwen (maybe because he sees Kasumi’s body when the BoS returns from Far Harbor and there’s an in-between chapter here) , he thinks Danse will never know it was him
    * Gray grabs his “blow up the Prydwen” shit and leaves while Danse was out doing something and leaves a note like “Brotherhood called, gotta go babe”
    * Danse believes him but stumbles upon a dropped instruction page from Gray’s kit; he knows that Gray lied and rushes off to the Prydwen to stop him



 

  * The End 
    * Gray gets everything set up, its night time, he’s on the beach with the detonator in his hand
    * Danse finds him, sees the detonator from wherever he’s hiding, and shoots Gray in the back of the head with Righteous Authority (extra symbolism points)
    * Pow. Short and brutal. Gray never sees Danse and dies instantly and his corpse is conveniently vaporized
    * Danse had the page that told him how to deactivate the detonator, he does it.
    * Danse just kinda stands there for a while
    * It’s been hours, the sun starts to peek up as Danse decides how he’s gonna kill himself
    * He gets up on the edge of a pier or something out in the water and shoots himself, so he falls in and his corpse is hidden



 

  * Epilogue 
    * Shad mouths off about Danse due to Gray’s disappearance
    * Maxson has him executed on some sort of mission all under-the-table
    * Kidman is sent back to the Capital Wasteland due to pregnancy
    * Nothing ends well for anyone.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. It means a lot to me that people enjoy my work, and I understand that this is a massive cop-out. Either way, thank you. I hope this makes things easier.


End file.
